


Shylock

by Weasy



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Merchant of Venice - Shakespeare
Genre: AU, Bastardizing Shakespeare, F/M, Ghosts, Human, Ireland, Mystery Kids, Secret family, Supernatural Elements, teenage pregnancy (past)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-27
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weasy/pseuds/Weasy
Summary: Buffy wasn't the Slayer, and Angel has always been just human - but the supernatural still tries to find a way to ruin their less than perfect lives. COMPLETE and reposted here June '17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A Merchant of Venice/Buffy Mashup set in Ireland, wrote many years ago and being reworked to post here. MoV characters completely reimagined for plot purposes. Rating for later chapters.

**Fox Rock, Dublin, 31st May 1972**

Antonio breathed in a ragged breath as he tore down the street, his feet slapping on the pavement in long strides as he speed toward his home. His face was wet with tears and his bare feet were bleeding, leaving red footprints behind him.

His ragged state did not slow his strides. He had to get home, had to stop the mistake he'd made being echoed again. A few hours before he'd been at the park with his wife celebrating his newest successful venture, their six month old son was tucked up with a babysitter at their house. He'd never liked horses, but his father'd made a fortune on them, a lucky bet or two, and then training them, so Antonio went into the family business as soon he was old enough, his father was dead now… and it meant so much to his mother that he had taken over. But he was a terrible businessman… they'd been loosing money thick and fast until Antonio'd met Shylock…

Running across the street at the corner, Antonio barely saw the car as it swerved to avoid him, slamming into the wall on the other side of the crossroad instead, didn't hear the smash of steel and bricks, the driver tumbling out of the car, swearing at Antonio as he kept on running down the street.

His mother, Isabella, had become more and more ill as her beloved husband's company failed in the hands of their eldest son. His home life was terrible, his wife had been pregnant and threatening to leave him, when Shylock told him what he wanted it seemed like the only option, the only way to keep his family together, and now he was going to pay.

He'd reached the drive now and even as his feet crunched on the gravel, sinking into the stones and slowing him down he struggled toward the door, he struggled on though every inch of the long sloping driveway feeling like a mile. He could see the fire, the column of smoke rising from the building, in the background he registered the sound of wailing sirens and it occurred to him that they would be slowed by the traffic accident he'd caused.

He could smell burning flesh.

Finally reaching the door, he slammed his elbow against it, but the door didn't budge even a little and Antonio rummaged through his pockets for the key, hands shaking. He shoved the key in the lock, barely noticing how his hands where burnt from the heated metal of the lock and door handle. Pushing open the door smoke billowed around him and into the street, punching his way through it he struggled up the stairs groping blindly for the handrail.

Shylock had promised him success and he had delivered, stock value in the company had quadrupled, sales where surmounting all previous records, and it seemed every racehorse they produced was a winner. He'd been generous, given Antonio a year to fulfill his part of the bargain.

Except Antonio had forgotten, and now Shylock would take his payment from the flesh of Antonio's child, instead of the money Antonio had promised to pay.

The smoke was less dense than downstairs and the fire seemed less violent, burning in isolated patches across the landing instead of all over. The bitter taste still burned his lungs with every breath he took. How long could he keep going? Quickly finding his son's room, Antonio was inside in a moment.

Falling to his knees as the smoke started to overcome him Antonio looked up to see the creature he had come to despise leaning over his son's crib. The babysitter was lying on the floor a foot from Antonio, blood pooling from a wound on the back of her head. Shylock turned to face Antonio and Antonio really saw his face for the first time. Red furrowed skin, with not a nose, but two long slits instead. Antonio knew now why they had always met in the shadows - that we had assumed was a beard was actually an extension of Shylock's jaw so that, like now, his jaw could dislocate and open much wider - like a snake's. Shylock's black eyes bored into Antonio's.

"Please! Please… I'll do anything!" He begged crawling on his knees past the dead girl to the monster's feet. "Please don't take my son!"

"But you promised." Shylock said in a twisted imitation of a child's voice. Dropping away from Shylock, Antonio felt fear shoot through his veins.

"You can have the money… I just need time. Please not my son." He begged again, his words coming over his tongue so fast he could barely wrap his tongue around the worlds. Smoke billowed and cracked in his lungs, so that it puffed out of his mouth when he spoke, and he rocked forward gently as lack of oxygen slowly taking his consciousness.

Shylock laughed, and the sound echoed in Antonio's ears. Helpless, barley able to lift himself from the floor, Antonio slipped to the carpet as he listened his baby son screaming in pain and confusion.

Pulling him up by the collar, Shylock put his mouth to Antonio's ear. "I will have my pound of flesh." Shylock whispered.

Then it all went black.

 

 

**Twenty Seven Years Later**

**Fox Rock, Dublin, 23rd November 1999**

Kathy scrambled to her feet as her father threw a silver platter at the wall behind her. Spike was at his feet in a moment, shielding her from her father's rage. "Daddy!" She whispered unable to understand his absolute fury… she knew he would be angry with her, as he was often angry with his two eldest children, but he had never been like this with her before.

"Don't call me Daddy!" He hissed. "You - stupid – little – whore!" he yelled throwing the salt shaker in her direction.

"Antonio…" She heard her mother whimper.

"Mr. O'Connor-" Spike tried.

Her father just turned on him instead, "Don't you Mr O'Connor me!" He screeched, "you came in here, wanting a place in my business, all airs and politeness, and all the time you where planning-" He drew in a deep breath "-TO IMPREGNATE MY EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER!"

Spike winced at the sheer volume of yelling in his face.

"We weren't exactly planning this Daddy." Kathy implored. "Can't we just talk about this?"

"There's nothing to say." Her mother said stiffly. "You'll just have to get rid of it."

Kathy's hand pressed against her still flat belly protectively. Dropping her eyes, she felt the reassuring weight of Spike's hand in hers. "I can't." She whispered.

"Why ever not?" Her mother demanded.

"It's my baby… I just. I can't, okay?"

"We talked about this and decided even if we are young, and even if this baby wasn't planned, we're going to be a family." Spike said resolutely, his eyes a direct challenge to his girlfriend's parents officious nature.

"Then you won't be part of ours." Antonio said coldly.

 

 

**Sunnydale, California, 23rd November 1999**

Buffy stretched languidly on the bed, propped up on her elbow beside him. Angel watched her lazily while one of his hands gently massaged the skin on her stomach with practiced ease. Turning to face her lover she smiled at him.

"I can't believe you're really here."

"Me neither… it seems like so long since I last saw you."

"Five months and nineteen days." Buffy echoed.

"I'm sorry… for leaving you. Especially for leaving you just so I could go and do some stupid law degree I never wanted to do in the first place."

"You're back now… and you're not doing the degree anymore. It might have taken you a while to realise it, but you came round to my way of thinking in the end and for that alone, I will always forgive you."

"Yep. Liam Angelus O'Connor is a new man, and I'm never doing what my father says just because he said it again." Twisting to face her more, Angel lowered his lips to her, and planted a soft, but far too brief for Buffy's liking, kiss against her lips. "Buff, I suspect your forgiveness may in fact rest upon the fact you love me, more than any of those other reasons."

"That may be a factor." Buffy agreed, shifting position to get closer as Angel's fingers smoothed over her hip and upwards in tiny tantalizing movements. "Plus… I really don't care about your father's opinion."

"Are you sure you've forgiven me yet… I'm perfectly willing to do some more convincing." He whispered against the skin of her neck before pressing a series of gentle kisses behind her ear. "I love you." He breathed again.

Smiling against the top of his head she breathed in the scent of him, the feel of him after so long without the chance to see or touch him. She skimmed her hands over the tattoo on his back. "I love you." She agreed.

"Hey guys!" Someone was just by the dorm door. Yelling. Groaning in disappointment, Angel buried his head in Buffy's neck and made a rude gesture at the back of the door.

"Go away!" He yelled back.

"Angel, I don't want come in there if you're doing it, but your sister's on the phone from Ireland… she sounds really upset." Doyle sounded antsy. 

Sitting up, Angel started hunting through the covers for his clothes.

"Tell her he's coming." Buffy yelled as Angel pouted. "Go on," she told him. "You've got forever to be with me, but your sister needs you now."

Pulling on the pants he'd discarded earlier the day he lent down and pressed a kiss to Buffy's forehead before he left. "Back in a minute."


	2. Chapter 2

**Four Years Later - Dublin  
May 20th 2004**

Buffy stared out into the world beyond the steel and glass of the DART train that shot through the coastal area. Scrubby fields and artistically placed boulders gave way to the low rent housing that ran along side the Dublin train. Her ears were filled with the clatter of the train moving over the tracks and the low hum of conversation on the train. Her attention was wrapped so securely in the houses slipping through her vision she didn't notice Callum calling for her attention until his little three year old hand touched her calf and startled her from her reverie.

"Mamma?" he questioned softly, his big brown eyes staring up at her. "Why are you sad?"

"I'm not sad." She replied quickly pulling him onto her lap and planting a kiss deep into his dark hair, as if reassuring herself of his existence. "I wanted to take you here earlier, but things kept getting in the way." She knew he wouldn't really understand what she meant, but she couldn't explain her feelings any better to him. As expected Callum's nose wrinkled in confusion.

"To see Auntie Arlene?" Callum's reference took her off guard, he wasn't referring to his real aunt, but to his Great-Aunt Arlene, who had refused the title 'great' saying it made her feel old. She was seventy-three, but no one would have guessed that - if her active health when Buffy had last seen her a good few years before still stood. She was still too young to be a great anything, but then Buffy had only been nineteen when Callum was born.

"Not just to see Arlene." Buffy informed him and he jumped up and down excitedly.

"Really where are we going? Are we going to Disneyland?"

Buffy withheld a laugh "No baby, there's no Disneyland here." She glanced at the station name as they pulled into another station, Tara Street, she still had a long way to go. "We're going to visit an old friend of mine."

"Giles?"

"I meant that I'd known him for a long time, not that he was old, Callum."

"Oh. What's his name?"

"Angel."

"Is he from Mex-co?" he stumbled a little over his words, his tongue unable to get around the name 'Mexico' and the rapid speed he was firing off questions at her wasn't helping.

"No-o." She glanced puzzledly at him. "Why would you think he came from Mexico?"

"In that movie, that maked you cry, the evil guy named Angel is from Mexico." He drew back a little uncertainly. "He's not like that is he?" Buffy again regretted that Callum had ended up watching 'Practical Magic' a few weeks before when she had been unable to get him to sleep. It had only served to give him nightmares.

Buffy smiled to ease his tension. "No, he's not like that at all, he's very kind. He's from Ireland not Mexico, and I'm very confident that he won't come back from the dead." This seemed to satisfy Callum and he twisted round on her lap to face the window and chattered animatedly to her about all the things he could see. Smiling contentedly Buffy leaned back to watch the excitement on his face grow, one hand wrapped around him to keep him securely in place. He was so beautiful, so innocent, so much her little angel. She was terrified of what she was going to do, of what might happen. If Angel - she pushed the thought away reluctant to deal with it now in her confused jet lagged state.

Callum's nose was pressed against the glass of the window as a graffiti horse on the side of a building whipped through his vision. It was a bay stallion, it's coat flecked with foaming white sweat and forelegs kicked up in a wild rear.

"Xander said there were horsies in Ireland." Callum muttered disappointed and craning his neck to watch the stallion until it disappeared from view.

"There are, they're just not here in the city. They live out in the countryside, on farms." Buffy told him. "How 'bout we go to the races while we're here." She suggested lightly, unable to stand his quiet displeasure.

"Okay." He grinned clambering around, from his half standing position to sit on her lap again, facing away from the window, Buffy shifted her legs slightly to make herself more comfortable, unconsciously holding onto her son so as not to unsettle him. Callum barely noticed, his attention was now focused on the other passengers of the train coolly inspecting them with imperious eyes. An elderly woman dressed entirely in black, who was sitting across from them smiled sweetly at the boy and he smiled back happily. "Hello. Do you have a horse?" he asked before Buffy could stop him.

"I used to a long time ago." She told him, switching seats to be closer to the young family smiling reassuringly at Buffy. "There are lot of famous racing horses in Ireland, lad." She gazed questioningly at Buffy for a moment who nodded her consent for the woman to continue, grateful for the break at entertaining the two year old. "Do you want to hear a story? It's about a horse, a very famous one."

"Yes, please." Callum replied, his immediate polite behaviour made Buffy proud somehow and she stopped her thoughts from drifting; interested in whatever tale the old woman was about to regale.

"Many years ago there was a' horse named Shergar. He was a racehorse, and they say he was the best racehorse that ever lived - better than Red Rum even."

"That fast?" Callum exclaimed excitedly, remembering Xander's exaggerated tales of the racing world.

"He was tha' fast." The woman affirmed. "But when he got old they decide that he deserved a'rest, so they sent him out to stud-"

"What's stud?" Callum interrupted, uncertain at the turn of phrase.

"When racehorses get old they go out to live on farms, to have families." Buffy explained, leaving out any notion of breeding programs. He wouldn't have understood it anyway.

"So after Shergar's very last race he was travelling back to tha stud, and he was stolen." The woman continued, she had expected to be interrupted at this point to be told that stealing things was wrong instead she was surprised to find that he simply asked.

"Who stole him?"

"A political group." She replied simply, and in turn dreaded the next question.

"Oh. Why?" It was complicated, well not so complicated, but far too much for him to comprehend, but there was something about him that suggested he understood more than anyone supposed.

"Shergar was worth a lot o' money, so they knew that if they stole him his owners would pay a lot o' money to get him back." She replied eventually.

"Did they?"

"Did they what, lad?"

"Did they get Shergar back?"

"Na. Some people say that the scoundrels that took him didn't know how to look after a thoroughbred properly - so he died."

Callum pouted at that. "That's not fair. Like when Mamma won't let me play Poker with Uncle Xander." The old woman raised an eyebrow and Buffy blushed furiously.

"And what does your Da think o' that?" The woman replied, looking Callum deep in the eye.

"I don't have a daddy." Callum told her simply, and the words cut through Buffy's chest like a knife. And though Callum had now moved on and was trying to tell the woman something one of his friends had said, Buffy could feel the woman's eyes on her. Could feel the woman's sympathetic look. She didn't want pity, she'd had so much of it all ready. When her mother had died Callum had been four months old, and she only just twenty. The family that had gathered for the funeral had been so cold with her. They never even knew her, and she could feel it in their eyes like her accidental pregnancy had caused her mother's brain aneurysm. She wasn't ashamed of Callum, she never had been, but it had been hard then to not feel like she had done something wrong.

"They'll learn." The woman said simply, and Buffy shied away from her words, at the unnatural feeling that the woman knew a lot more than she wanted to know about herself. Her voice was so impossibly soft and quiet it felt as though she was talking in Buffy's mind not aloud. The woman turned away and was talking to Callum in soft whispers close to his ear. Feeling a protective instinct rise up inside her she moved closer to split up their secrecy but the woman had all ready moved away, pressing something into Callum's hot little hand before slipping off the train as it drew up to the station.

"What did she give you?" Buffy demanded, in a sharper tone than she intended to use. Opening his palm Callum revealed a tiny gold charm, shaped like a delicate pair of scales. It was so small it must have been made for a tiny charm bracelet, for a wrist smaller than even Callum's. Buffy guessed that perhaps it had been a Christening present at some point, but she pushed the thought away.

"That's beautiful Callum. Did you remember to say thank you?" Callum nodded. "That's great." Buffy told him, grateful that his forgetfulness for politeness when he was excited, had not made an appearance on this occasion. But Callum was acting remarkably unexcited, though she could tell he liked the present. So what was wrong with him? "Do you want me to look after it for you, until we get you a chain for it?"

But Callum shook his head resolutely closing his fist over the charm. "She said I wasn't ever to given it to anyone."

"Are you sure?" Buffy prodded, anxious about him losing something obviously so precious. Callum nodded again, his eyes darkening with resolution. "Well let's just put it around your neck then." Buffy suggested unclipping the crucifix from around his neck, she again pondered the relic. She wasn't sure why she dressed him in the cross every day, she'd never been religious herself, only that something inside her insisted that she had too, something that had made her wear her own crucifix since the day she arrived in Sunnydale. It was just something about that place… and Buffy had the sneaking suspicion that whatever it was, it had followed them here.

 

 

Arlene was dancing around her apartment in literal ecstasy, so excited about her niece bringing her little son to stay. Floating around the apartment she straightened it up and cleared away anything small. Callum was nearly four now and she didn't really need to baby-proof the place, but she wanted to. She'd missed so much! Buffy hadn't had the money to journey to Ireland before now, and her own vow to stay away from America after the death of her husband Sean in '02 had kept them apart. They'd written of course, and she'd collected a whole album of photographs of her great-grandchild, but it wasn't the same… and now – what if he doesn't like me? Screamed urgently through her brain. What if he thinks I'm old and scary… oh god. She gathered her breath quickly trying to calm herself down. Mustn't panic she reminded herself, and her heartbeat slowly returned to normal – only to be sent off the scale again when the doorbells chimes sounded.

Wrenching the door open she flung her arms around her niece, who stared open-mouthed at her. "Buffy!" she exclaimed, tears of joy running down her face. Buffy eyed her anxiously.

"Arlene? Are you okay?" Concern was written in her voice, but Fionn just smiled happily at her.

"I'm fine." She brushed a tear from her cheek, which was quickly replaced by another. "I'm just so happy to see you! Now where's my Callum?" A small head peeked out from behind Buffy's legs.

"Mamma?" It uttered quietly, tightening his grip on her leg, but Buffy just swept him up in her arms, cuddling him close to her chest in reassurance, in return he tried to bury his head into her shoulder.

"Arlene, this is Callum." Dropping her voice she pulled Callum's face up from her neck to look him in the eyes, love and reassurance tangible in every word. "Callum, baby, this is your Aunt Arlene. Remember she sent you those letters?" Callum nodded stoically, and apparently getting over his shyness, twisted around in Buffy's grip to face his great grandmother and he eyed her suspiciously. After apparently completing his assessment, he smiled broadly and opened his mouth to say something – but was cut off by his own loud yawn. "Callum!" Buffy scolded him gently, but Arlene didn't seem to mind, she was leaning against the doorframe laughing silently. "I'm sorry, there wasn't anyplace to put him down for a nap, and-"

"Shush Buffy," Arlene interrupted. "I had two children of my own, and four grandchildren to contend with before Callum arrived."

"Yes Aunt Arlene." Buffy said impiously. Arlene laughed out loud at that. Noticing that she'd left her guests standing in the hallway, she stepped back suddenly flustered again.

"I'm sorry, come in, come in." She ushered them inside and heading out again to bring in their luggage before Buffy could stop her. Fionn wasn't having any trouble with the luggage anyway, though the suitcase was rather large.

"Dear me how long are you staying?"

"A week." Callum replied honestly, now in some sleepy form of awareness. "Mamma says she wants me ta see Angel. Do you know Angel, Aunt Arlene?" He finished abruptly and stared expectantly at Arlene.

"Aye, I met him once yes." She glanced surreptitiously at Buffy, whose return glance said nothing. "He gave me this painting." She added, lifting Callum from Buffy's arms and into her own, she took him into the living room. There above the mantle piece was a painting of green rolling fields, that led down to a river filled valley, pleasure boats bobbed across the water, and a family sat to one side, watching as they ate a picnic. A sunset spread across the hills, and the burnt shades of light were reflected in the water. "He said it was near where he grew up in Galway. He spent a lot of his childhood there." Callum took all of this in without comment, nodding gravely in appreciation before stifling another yawn with his hand.

"Aunt Arlene…" he started muggily.

"No more talk now." Arlene told him. "I made up a room for you, and you are going to bed." Mouthing 'thank you' to Arlene Buffy collapsed on the sofa, listening to Callum's sleepy complaints about being sent to bed, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed herself. But she just couldn't keep her eyes off the painting.

A few minutes later she felt hands shaking her awake "Callum - stop it." She muttered trying to return to her dream world. The shaking got harder. Feeling the last traces of sleep jolted from her she opened her eyes in frustration and was met by the crystal blue eyes of Arlene.

"Stay awake, you have to put up with the time zone now or you won't be able too." Buffy nodded in assent, knowing she was right, but mentally buried herself further into the cushions of the sofa. "Go for a walk, it'll help you stay awake." Arlene added pulling Buffy's crumpled form from the sofa, Buffy nodded again, this time in resignation.

"What about-"

"I'll look after Callum."

"If he wakes up, don't tell him I'm not here unless he asks, he gets a bit fussy sometimes, but if you just set him back down with a story then-"

"Buffy." Arlene interrupted her rambling with a raised eyebrow.

"-And of course you knew that." Buffy finished.

"Go." Buffy sighed, and left the room, closing the door behind her. Troubled Arlene turned back to the painting, studying its nuances. Behind her the door clicked open. "Buffy…" Arlene warned. The door clicked shut again and the sound of feet moving down the hallway reassured her that Buffy was indeed leaving.

When Buffy returned the evening was drawing to a close, and night was well on its way. Arlene was puttering around the kitchen, trying to cook up a late supper without waking Callum, who had proved to be a light sleeper. Questions about his mother's absence had managed to be avoided though, so he had gone back down easily enough.

Sitting down at the table Buffy glanced at the bookshelf that ran along the wall beside it. One was her own book, Slayer, the others were for the most part a selection of literary classics, from the Brontë sisters to George Orwell. Among them was what must have been every book James Joyce had ever written. Moving her fingertips over the spines of the books lovingly, she felt her thoughts slide back to her mother.

"He lived here, you know." Arlene remarked as she set two plates down on the table.

"Oh." Buffy replied, uncertain as of what to say, as she digested the remark confusion became evident on her face. "Here?"

"In Sandycove, just round the corner, did you see Joyce Tower on your walk?"

"Yes, by the forty foot drop." Turning her attention back to the food she nibbled at it nervously, uncertain about the conversation's aim.

"He wrote about it in – this one." Arlene added, pulling out 'A portrait of a Young Artist.'

"Then I think that I might read it." Buffy decided, taking in the cover of the book. "I need some inspiration."

"Help yourself." Arlene pushed the book over to Buffy's side of the table, so that it rested just by her fingertips. "Are you going to be able to tell, yon Angel the truth about Callum?"

"I never lied!" Buffy protested. "I just neglected to mention it."

"That he had a son?"

"I didn't even know about Callum the last time I spoke to him, and that was that one last day, in which he decided within twenty four hours, that he could and could not be with me." She stabbed a potato angrily. "He drops out of Harvard to be an artist, comes back to Sunnydale to get me and then just leaves again. Because he's been disinherited and he's got no money and grr!" Slamming the potato back against the plate she didn't feel nearly as much satisfaction as she wanted to as she watched it break in half.

"I'm sensing some unresolved tension here."

"Damn right there's unresolved tension here. He's just such an idiot sometimes! And we went through so much to be together when everyone wanted to keep us apart. I thought that he would realise the mistake he was making and come back to me, but he hasn't. So he can't – there's no way he loves me anymore." She was so dejected that the fire that Arlene remembered in little twelve year old Buffy's eyes was dim, a mere shadow of it's former self. She'd been through so much, and it wasn't fair that she kept being tested like this, suddenly angry at whatever power had caused this mess Arlene strove to remain calm, being angry wouldn't help. But Angel loved her, she knew that, and she knew that painting had been given to her not as a kind gift but because he knew somehow that she was a relative of Buffy's. That one day she'd met him. But Buffy didn't see that the woman in the picture was in fact her own image, and there was nothing Arlene could do about it.

"If you had told him about getting pregnant that day he would have come."

"I wanted him to come back for me, because he wanted to be with me. Not because he wanted to be with me for Callum's sake. It would have hurt Callum more than not having a father at all in the long run." She moved the food around her plate miserably, not even seeing what she was doing, quietly she added. "I'm here now because even if Angel doesn't love me, Callum deserves to know his father."

"And you expect Angel to leave it at that."

"Xander-" Arlene almost growled at the mention of Buffy's wayward friend. "Xander never thought much of Angel. He thought he'd want to have nothing to do with Callum."

"But Xander loves Callum as a son, and just doesn't want to be replaced in the father figure category."

"Yes." Buffy agreed. "Plus he just hates Angel."

"Why's that?" Fionn prodded and Buffy shot her a startled look. "You never told me."

"I don't know exactly, Xander was one of my first friends in Sunnydale, but when Angel arrived on that student exchange and we started going out... I don't know. Xander was always off with him. Willow says he feels second best, even though we've been friends so much longer than mine and Angel's relationship lasted."

"And is he?"

"I don't know. The way I felt about Angel was so different. But Xander's always been there, and Angel just hasn't." Fionn didn't like the way that thought train was heading, although Buffy had never told her what had caused her relationship with the boy's father to end so abruptly she had her own suspicions, and none of them were good.

"I think it's time enough for you to tell Angel." She looked deep in Buffy's eyes, as though searching for something. "Tomorrow."

Buffy said nothing but took a long sip from her coffee. Tomorrow… that was another day.


	3. Chapter 3

**May 21st 2004**

Arlene had taken Callum out for an early morning swim by the time Buffy emerged from her room. It was nice, she reflected to have someone so very willing to look after him for her so that she could have some time to herself. Her friends in Sunnydale all helped her of course, but they'd all grown up and had nine to five jobs now and Dawn was still just a teenager who had school like every other seventeen-year-old.

Finding a boiled egg left for her, she slipped some bread into the toaster and flicked through some drawings Callum had left on the table from that morning. There were several of the scales pendant and Buffy suspected she would need to buy him a new yellow crayon given his eagerness to colour them in, finding the pack of colours she decided she might as well get him an entirely new set. Making a mental list of the little bits and pieces she needed to buy that day she remembered her gift for Arlene that still lay folded neatly at the bottom of her case. She could always give it to her that evening she supposed.

Pulling the stack of drawings away in search for a clean sheet, she found a picture she hadn't noticed before. It had a markedly better quality than the others, so that you could see he had drawn a house and some people much more easily that in his other attempts. Seeing Arlene's writing heading the drawing 'My Family – Callum 3 & 1/2' she wondered if Arlene had helped him. Sitting down at the table she studied the picture, about two dozen people were crammed into the picture, and nearly every person had been neatly labelled by Arlene. Buffy spotted herself, with Callum next to her, although he was much bigger than he was now, and a man next to her, tall with dark hair like Callum's. Three more children were grouped with them, two girls and a boy. Is that what he wants? Buffy wondered surprised. He'd always seemed happy enough, but perhaps he did miss Angel's presence, even if he'd never known it.

Xander was there too, on the right, and Giles with an unnamed dark woman, who had a small child at her feet. Dawn stood a little to their right with a blonde haired man and Buffy wondered why Callum hadn't added any children by their feet as he had with the others. Arlene stood behind them, but Callum had coloured her in much less exuberantly than the others, so that she was quite faint, and a smudged line seemed to somehow stand beside her.

On the left of the page there was another woman with dark eyes and curly black hair, and a man with what looked like swept back blonde hair, and blue eyes. The children, two sons – one much older than the other, were an abstract mix of their parents. No one in this family unit was named. Looking back at the picture Buffy noted that everyone 'new' that Callum had invented weren't named. Except as her eyes strayed to the forms of Willow and Tara, between them were two little girls, one with a head full of red curls and the other with stick straight brown hair. The first girl was clearly marked as 'Sierra'.

Her attention was caught by something else before she could dwell too much on it. A woman stood slightly to the edge of the picture, the dress she wore was black and her eyes were eerie even in Callum's scratchy representation of them. Shaky letters read 'Isabella' beside the woman. The woman inexplicably reminded her of the woman… her thoughts were cut short by the shrill ringing of the telephone. Unable to take the horrible ring-tone she decide she could always take a message for Arlene.

"Hello?" She paused, before adding "Hannigan residence." Taking the time to recall her mothers maiden name.

"Buffy?" Willow's voice leapt over the line, the long distance call slightly fuzzy. "Is that you?"

"Yes Wills, is something wrong?" She'd barely been away for a day and Willow was all ready calling her? There had to be a reason.

"No, no. Something's definitely not wrong."

"Oh my god, the artificial fertilization…" She left the question hanging, trying not to get her hopes up. She knew Willow and Tara had been trying for a baby for months now.

"Yes. It worked." Buffy let out an excited squeal.

"Wow! There's so much to do!"

"Yeah." Willow admitted, a note of apprehension clear in her voice.

"If you look in the attic all of Callum's stuff is still there from when he was very small, unless you want to get new things of course-"

"Breathe Buffy we don't need any of that for at least eight months from now."

"I suppose. It's just so wonderful!" As the excitement rubbed off a little, she fingered Callum's picture under her fingertips. "Have you thought about names yet?"

"Well, I haven't discussed anything with Tara, but you know how Xander always calls me Red?"

"Yes." Buffy rolled her eyes at his randomness, before mentally chastising herself because no one could see the action.

"Well I was thinking that, and if it was a girl maybe calling her Henna, or Sienna or something like that." Willow's words were like a blow to Buffy.

"Have you talked about it with anyone yet?" She asked, mentally begging that Callum had just overheard the name Sienna.

"No. You're the first person to hear my musings. What's wrong? don't you like it? Maybe it's a bit new age hippy-y."

"No, no, nothing like that. They're great names." Just please call her something else, she begged, just so that Callum can have been wrong. This, whatever it was, if this had been the first time that it had happened, but it wasn't. Buffy closed her eyes and prayed to unknown gods that her son was just unusually perceptive.

"Buff, are you okay?"

"I'm just a bit worried about Callum." She bluffed. "Arlene took him out to the beach, but sometimes he has trouble understanding her accent." Willow laughed at the other end.

"Oh but I can just imagine Callum grown up with the deep Irish brogue, like…" She trailed off uncertainly.

"Like Angel, Wills."

"I know. It's just…" She tried again. "How's the telling Angel about his son thing going?"

"Not so good."

"What's wrong isn't he here yet? Or is he-"

Buffy interrupted before Willow's thought train encroached too far on her own. "I just haven't been to see him yet."

"Buff-"

"This woman gave Callum a pendant yesterday. It's solid gold." Buffy said abruptly changing the subject.

"Wow."

"I want to find her, to at least offer to pay for it if she won't take it back."

"It could be next to impossible to find her." A heavy sigh came over the line. "Do you even know what her name is?"

Buffy felt her fingers slid down the picture again. "Her name is Isabella, Isabella Rossi."

"That's a starting point I suppose, but Buffy this is just procrastination."

"I can't explain it Willow, but it feels really important that I find her."

"All right. Promise me you won't look for her until you've talked to Angel."

"Yes Willow."

"Swear."

"I swear." Buffy echoed, though deep in her heart she suspected that her promise would be broken. The conversation swerved away from that unexpectedly serious track to discuss a forthcoming date Giles had.

 

 

Stepping off the DART train at Pearse Street Buffy stepped off the train and set of through the streets. Finding the main shopping area no different from that in any other city, except a curious McCafe at the McDonalds - where the food was served on actual plates, she headed off down the back streets parallel to the main drag. She wandered around doing a little window shopping and taking in the atmosphere around her. Finding a genuine vintage clothing store, The Eager Beaver, she decided that there was no reason why she couldn't do some actual shopping while she was there, having all ready picked up the items on her list.

Moving quickly past the front area where the modern fakes hung she made her way up some rather old stairs to the first floor. She found herself faced with several racks of ancient leathers. Nearly dancing with glee she quickly headed over and spent the better part of an hour twirling around in leather coats of all shapes and sizes. As she did so she started up an easy conversation with the assistant who flirted casually with her whenever he got the chance between frequent phone calls to the shop phone. Finally settling on a calf length, fitted, dark brown leather coat she took it over to the counter to pay. The phone rang again and the teen rolled his eyes, his hand resting on the reciever. "I'm really sorry - the boss is freaking out. Just found out she's pregnant. Do you mind?" 

Buffy shook her head and he picked up the phone "Jess, I am telling you - just tell him. I never knew my father till I was seventeen. Really didn't do me any good."

 _Of course._ Buffy sighed. The universe just wasn't going to let this one drop.

 

Leaving the shop she was immediately faced with the brightly painted shop opposite. Curious she moved close to the window to see what was inside, there filling one half on the window, was a display of Claddagh rings. Heart constricting at the sight of them Buffy turned away from the window and hurried down the street, ploughing blindly through the clouds and the sudden drizzly rain that had appeared from nowhere. In her peripheral vision a darting black shape caught her eye.

Isabella, she realised with a stunning conviction. As soon as she started trying to make her way to the woman, she turned around and fled, so that Buffy had to run to keep up, following the black figure she found herself leaving the windy back streets and instead back on the main drag. Finally closing in on the woman close to the bus stop she caught the woman by the arm and spun her round ready to confront her. She was met by the startled face of a young woman, younger than Buffy even, with thick coal black hair and olive skin. "I-I'm sorry." Buffy stammered, quickly letting go. "I thought you were someone else." The woman inclined her head politely before turning away, apparently unperturbed by the incident. With shaky legs, Buffy wondered if she was going crazy to have chased a woman halfway across Dublin just because she was wearing a black coat.

Deciding that she might as well visit Angel then as any other time, and given that the bus she needed had just pulled up in front of her, she stepped up onto the bus. She had to repeat her destination twice to the driver who didn't seem to understand her through her Californian accent. Taking a seat she stared distantly out the window ears pealed for the warning that he had promise to give her when they arrived at Foxrock Church. In front of her some teenage kids were having a verbal sparring about whether some kid was cool or not. Apparently insults were the only language the world has in common.

When Foxrock Church was finally announced over the intercom, about a half-hour later, half of the bus stepped off. Thanking the driver she stepped off into the cool sunshine. The morning clouds and patchy rain had almost gone now, and the sky was a smooth rolling blue. It was close to three by then, and it occurred to he that perhaps she should have eaten the lunch she hadn't felt like having earlier. Heading up the stairs to cross over the dual carriageway that separated her from Angel she saw Foxrock Church for the first time, it was a strangely Spanish looking building with deep colonial feel to it's smooth walls and windows. Mostly it just gave off an aura of being out of place. Kind of like how Buffy felt at that moment.

The bridge over the road gave her a view of the area she was heading into, the area where Angel lived. As she slowly walked over the traffic below her she could see the place spread out like a map, each house was dotted in a huge expanse of garden. Feeling her steps falter she pushed herself on with determination. She'd always known Angel was rich. His grandfather, Liam, had been a poor stable hand who'd worked his way up to be an incredibly wealthy horse-trainer. Angel didn't think much of horses she knew. She didn't think even his father, Antonio, had been terribly interested, but the racing circles were where he had met Angel's mother. Buffy'd once met Angel's terribly pompous and slightly evil mother, the same mother that disinherited him for dropping out of Harvard. Had he lied? Had he invented an excuse to leave her, was something about their reunion that day so wrong that he's had to make up a way to escape her? There was no use dwelling on it now, she knew it was no longer about her and Angel, but she couldn't help but feel angry with him for whatever he'd done.

Feet clipping along the pavement in her heeled shoes Buffy inspected each house in turn, taking in each mansion, with their smooth walls and winding drives that led to marble patio's and gothic manor houses. Each house wasn't really a house but a house and a half, and each very individual, custom made for their owners. She didn't understand the names of most of the houses and for the most part they appeared to be in Gaelic. Or Irish, apparently they didn't like the language being called 'Gaelic' sounded too Scottish or something. Finally matching a name to the name inscribed on her memory, Caritas. As the hedges that blocked the house from view fell away Buffy drew in a deep breath. It was beautiful! Built in a symmetrical Georgian style, cool grey bricks melded with glass to bring a touch of modern to the old, the door, an elaborately carved oak affair, was framed by wild climbing roses and ivy that gave a homely touch in an otherwise imposing building. The gardens that were laid around it were an extension of the house, creating a number of outdoor 'rooms'. Tall hedges boarded the property to create privacy and block out traffic noise, a gravel trail that led off the driveway led down the side of the house to a Zen like area that was shielded from the front part of the garden by host of bamboo bushes. An ancient swing stood next to them, that was seemingly held together by the wild roses that climbed it's wooden frame. It reminded Buffy of the swing in 'The Secret garden'. Beside it was some more practical play equipment, a wooden climbing frame and a slide… why exactly did Angel need a climbing frame? A cool voice in her ear told her it was probably left over from his childhood, another louder more insistent voice told her that Angel had moved on without her, had –

"Can I help you?" Buffy spun around to face the source of the voice and was met by the cool green eyes of a dark haired woman.

"Does, uh, Angel O'Connor live here?"

"Yes." The woman replied simply, suspicion tight in her voice.

"I, uh, came to see him… but he's probably, uh, busy, so ah-" Buffy's rambling was cut off by the woman.

"He's not actually here at the moment."

"Oh." Buffy visibly relaxed.

"Do you want to leave a message, say a name…" The woman fished.

Buffy visibly tensed again. "Er, no. I'll, ah, come back, um, later."

The woman smiled reassuringly at Buffy's nervous stuttering. "Would it make it easier if I said 'Hi, my name's Kathy.' And then-" Kathy was interrupted by a small speeding boy jumping into her arms at full pelt, crying "Mummeee!" Kaitlyn staggered under the weight of the boy for a moment before pulling him onto her hip and planting a kiss in his cropped, dark hair. Chocolate brown eyes met Buffy's hazel and she stumbled backwards in shock. The resemblance to Angel was shocking. He has a family, shot through her senses, and muttering some excuse Buffy fled the perfect garden and Angel's perfect new life.

 

 

When Buffy arrived back at Arlene's apartment Callum was all ready there. He seemed unperturbed by her extended absence. In fact he was jumping up and down on the sofa, laughing at some Irish kids TV programme. His excitation was cut short when Buffy picked him off the sofa and set him down on the floor.

"What's the rule?" She asked him.

"No, feet on the sofa." Buffy nodded in agreement, and looked him in the eye.

"So why were you?"

"Uncle Xander says its okay when you're not here." He replied, and Buffy mentally checked another of her friends off her mental babysitter's list, but deep down suppressed a laugh. Callum seemed to have similar ideas, squirming out of her grip he climbed back up onto the sofa and continued bouncing. "It's Connor's birfday tomorrow, and he said I could go to his party!" He shouted to the ceiling. Buffy restrained herself from collapsing in defeat.

"Callum!" Arlene scolded as she came into the room from the kitchen, he immediately bounded over to her.

"Whats for tea?" He demanded in his usual cute way.

"Sit down Callum." Buffy interceded, obediently Callum sat on the floor, Buffy just glared at him until he got up again and went and sat on the sofa.

"Thank you." Kneeling down in front of him she met his dark eyes and once again was reminded of the similarity between him and the boy at Angel's house (she refused to refer to him as Angel's son, even in her mind) "Now, who's Connor?"

"I met him at the beach. He's four tomorrow, and he's having a birfday party for everyone at his playgroup, and I can come to 'cos I'm his bestest friend." Callum puffed out his chest importantly, and Buffy couldn't help but smile at him, he was just so cute sometimes, well, all of the time. Glancing up at Arlene, she saw her nod in agreement.

"I met his mother, she said the party's eleven till four tomorrow."

"Trust you to get a party invite the first day you meet someone Cal. Did we get an address?"

"Yep, I can take him there in the morning if you want, but you'll have to pick him up, I've got a doctor's appointment at three."

"Doctors." Buffy echoed a note of panic in her voice.

"Just a check up." Arlene reassured her.

"Okay." Taking all of that in, Buffy turned back to Callum whom was wriggling around impatiently on the settee. "If you're really good tomorrow we'll see about the party." Callum smiled in victory, knowing he had all ready won. "Oh I got you a chain for the pendent."

"Shylar." Callum insisted.

"Okay, I got a chain for Shylar." She repeated. Callum took off the chain all ready around his neck without fuss this time, but watched very carefully while Buffy swapped 'Shylar' from one chain to the next and then slipped both back over his head. Running her fingers through his hair she was met by a thick layer of sand. "You are having a bath, mister."

Callum shook his head in horror. "No mamma!"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Sure about that?" Callum nodded in agreement, and when Buffy wriggled her fingers at him, he bit his lip but kept nodding his head, shuffling back on the sofa. Taking his cue Buffy started to tickle him mercilessly.

"Mamma!" He squealed breathlessly trying to move out of her grasp as he drowned in giggles.

After Callum had been safely tucked in bed and drifted off to sleep Buffy and Arlene sat at the table in her apartment discussing everything that had happened since they had properly seen each other last. Given that it had been eleven years, just shy of half of Buffy's life, there was lot to reminisce about. But Buffy was distracted, and Arlene was unwilling to push her too far, so the conversation wandered over safe topics for several hours, until Arlene was gathering up the drawings from the table and was sticking them to the fridge with magnets.

"Arlene…" Buffy breathed, "did you tell Callum what Angel looks like?"

Frowning Arlene turned back to her. "No. He hasn't asked me about him at all."

"I haven't told him why I want them to meet, so I wouldn't've expected him to ask." Buffy told her, "but that's not what I meant." Sighing she tucked one strand of hair behind her ear. "That drawing… the 'my family' one."

Arlene drew in a quick breath, her hands shaking a little. "I don't know what's got into your little one there." She said quickly.

Buffy's nose crinkled in frustration, but seeing her aunt's distress she quickly helped her onto one of the kitchen chairs. Sitting in the chair opposite, Buffy grasped Arlene's hand, and Arlene stared at the grip for a moment before meeting Buffy's gaze. "What do you mean? What happened, Arlene?"

"We were sitting at the table, he was drawing that scale charm o' his, mostly, when he suddenly stopped, and started drawing this instead." She pulled out the 'My Family' for the stack of drawings. "He was talkin' the whole time, jus' under his breath… it wasn't like he was talkin' to himself though or like he was talkin' to me."

"Then who was he talking to?" Buffy demanded.

"I don't know." Arlene's gaze dropped back to the table. "I felt something… I can't explain what it was. But it made me feel so very cold, even though it was hot out, and I was suddenly scared…"

"About what?" Buffy asked though she all ready knew the answer.

Arlene pulled herself to her feet with shaking hands and Buffy drew in a tight breath watching her, Arlene had always been the strong one, had always stood up for the others, stood up for Buffy when her relatives had been circling Buffy and Dawn like vultures after their mothers death, desperate for their due from the little money Joyce had had. That was a different Arlene to the one that stood in front of Buffy now, that Arlene's wrinkles and greying hair had been soft and friendly, now she looked haggard… and old. "I was scared for your son." Arlene finally answered before shuffling out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**May 22nd 2004**

The next day dawned with foggy skies and sullen air that hug thick and heavy over the bay. For once Buffy was up before Callum, sitting on the balcony watching the fog roll in over the sea. She hadn't been able to sleep, how could she have? Her tiny three year old son, still so much her baby, was terrifying her with a drawing.

Endless questions buzzed around her mind and Buffy sighed heavily. She had best speak to Angel soon, Callum had been fine before he came here, and he would be fine when he left, she assured herself.

Unfortunately that left her with the entirely unsavoury prospect of spoiling Angel's perfect new life.

As promised Arlene took Callum to the party at eleven, and having pocketed the address to pick him up at Buffy spent the next few hours looking round Trinity College and the Star Wars library before doing a little bit of research for her next book. She knew what Willow would say if she knew what she was doing, she'd already waited too long to tell Angel about Callum and every day she didn't she was just making it worse. But she just couldn't bring herself to start the chain of pain and confusion that always sparked whenever she was around Angel.

Fishing the slip of paper out of her purse, she figured she ought to at least work out how far away Callum was and how long it would take to get there. Flipping the piece of paper to read Arlene's looped script she almost dropped the address in shock.

Callum was at Caritas.

Then Connor must have been the boy she had seen the day before, with the dark hair and eyes that where so much like Angel's. It was just her luck that of all the people Callum could have met at the beach he met his half-brother. Sighing heavily Buffy realised there was no way she could get away with picking up her son and not running into Angel. At least he'd restrain himself a little if there where other people there.

 

 

Trudging up the driveway for the second time in as many days, Buffy checked out the array of highly expensive cars in the driveway with growing dread. At least it'll be over soon, she tried to assure herself. Pulling her new leather jacket closer against the cold she stepped up to the front door and after a few minutes of hesitation pressed the button for the doorbell.

There was muffled sounds from inside the house, the small laugh of a child and the sound of footsteps approaching the door, feeling cold fear seep through her bones Buffy was suddenly compelled to run away as fast as she possibly could. But knowing her son was inside she could hardly abandon him though, as much as she really didn't want to be there.

The door was pulled open and the bright face of the dark haired woman she'd met before smiled at her. "Oh hey, you're the girl from yesterday!" She said, eyes flashing in recognition.

"Uhm, yeah." Buffy sighed, "Look-"

"Angel's round here somewhere…" She continued, turning inside the house and glancing round.

"Wait!" Buffy stepped in to the house, and hearing her protest Kathy turned to face her. "I just came to pick up my son."

"Your son?" She asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, Callum Summers? My grandmother dropped him off here this morning."

"Oh yes of course." Kathy smiled again. "Sorry, kids party, everything gets hectic."

Smiling in relief, Buffy nodded. "I know what you mean. And spending the next few weeks cleaning chocolate off the walls, an interesting experience."

Kathy laughed. "I think it may be cream this year." Motioning toward the kitchen she shut the door behind Buffy. "Come in, have some coffee."

"I shouldn't-" Buffy protested

But Kathy cut her off. "No buts, you look like you could do with a break."

Buffy sighed nervously. Staying in the house would be highly unlikely to ease her tension, but it would be rude to refuse after her son had undoubtedly been causing havoc all afternoon. Following Kathy into the kitchen she took a seat at the table in the sprawling kitchen, through an archway Buffy could see half a dozen kids Callum's age playing in the living room though she couldn't see Callum or Connor from where she was sitting.

Glancing back at the other mothers around the table she was unsurprised to see herself and Kathy seemed by far the youngest she half waved weakly at them. "This is…" Kathy started to introduce and then laughing, turned back to Buffy. "You know you never did tell me your name."

Buffy laughed, calming in the presence of the easy going Kathy, so maybe he was Angel's wife, but she was extraordinarily nice, and if the circumstances where different Buffy could see herself becoming friends with her. "Buffy, Buffy Summers."

There was a flash of something in Kathy's eyes and her brow furrowed for a second. "From California?"

"Yep: Sunnydale, California middle of nowhere."

"Really?" Kathy cocked her head sideways. "My brother studied there for a while, but I think he's older than you."

Buffy shrugged. "I don't think we met." Not your brother, Buffy thought, I definitely met your husband though. Turning back to the others, Kathy introduced them in turn and an easy conversation about their children started up.

Time slipped by quickly, and Buffy had been lulled into a sense of comfort when she heard the giggling shriek laugh of her son, turning to the door she saw Callum and Connor each being hung up-side down by there ankles by a tall man, his face was down laughing at the kids as they wrapped their arms around his legs, looking up Buffy saw his face, pale skin and dark spiky hair with big chocolate brown eyes. Buffy dropped her coffee cup in shock. Feeling the warm coffee drip off the table it had pooled on and onto her legs Buffy sat up and anxiously Kathy started dabbing her down with a cloth.

Angel's eyes where locked with hers, against their protests he let the children down to the floor, where they lay screaming with laughter. Taking a hesitant step forward, Angel blinked. "Buffy?" He asked cautiously.

Smiling nervously she raised a hand in a half wave. "Hey, Angel." She said weakly.

"I uh… what are you doing here?"

Callum finally got to his feet and want to Buffy, wrapping his arms around her knee. "Er, well, pick up Callum actually." Buffy confessed after a long pause.

"Oh." Coming to the table, Angel stood a foot from Buffy, one hand running along the surface of the counter absently. "Is he a friends?"

"No. He's mine."

Angel gazed at her. "He's nearly four."

Buffy nodded.

Angel's eyes widened a little. "But I… I mean… three and a half years ago… there was us."

Buffy nodded again. Angel ran one hand through his hair distractedly. Finally managing to regain control over her voice Buffy, stepped away from him abruptly. "Callum! We're going home!"

Heading to the door, Buffy pulled her coat over her shoulders and taking Callum's from the stand in the hall, she quickly pushed him into it when he came running up panting, "I don't wanna go yet!"

"We're leaving now." Buffy informed him shortly a dangerous note in her voice.

"Buffy wait!" She heard Angel call, and fiddling with the locks on the door, Buffy let out a ragged breath as she tried to keep in the tears that where threatening to fall. Feeling his hand on her shoulder she flinched, and he drew away nervously, spinning Buffy leaned against the still closed door and found herself near pinned there by Angel's hulking form. "Is he…" he stepped back and took in Callum again, eyes near breathing in every detail of his tiny form. "I mean, is he mine?"

"Of course he is Angel." She hissed abruptly.

"Mommy?" Callum asked quietly.

Tearing her eyes away from the shock in Angel's she turned to her son. "Yes baby?"

"Are you okay?" He asked a hint of fear in his voice.

"Will you please go find Connor's mom and say thank you." Buffy said finally. Watching as he ran off, Buffy found herself meeting Angel's gaze again she dropped her eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "I didn't mean to come and interrupt everything you've got here. I definitely didn't mean to come and do this right now at a party. But I thought you should probably know." She let out a short stilted laugh. "I was trying to make things better."

She felt his hand running down the side of her face, lifting her face to his and she was once again lost in the depths of those chocolate brown eyes. Seeing his smiling face, she hitched in a breath.

His lips met hers a moment later.

For a moment she was lost, her body had ached to be near his for so long, she melted against him in an instant, quickly wrapped up in the familiar taste of his lips, and the rising heat between them. Coming to her senses she pushed him away.

"Angel, your wife-" She muttered.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I'm not married Buffy."

Her nose crinkled in confusion. "But, Kathy and Connor-"

Angel laughed, that soft deep laugh that always filled her with toe curling happiness whenever she heard it. "Kathy's my sister Buffy, and Connor is her son, not mine. I just live with them."

"Oh. He… uh, looks a lot like you." Buffy echoed, though there was still a sense of confusion in her voice.

"Where are you staying?"

"With my aunt… in Sandy Cove."

"Do you mind… could we meet up some time? Talk about Callum." He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah." Buffy agreed. "I guess there's a lot to be said." Glancing at her watch she held in the sudden urge to throw herself back in Angel's arms. "I should go."

"Oh…" he looked disappointed, "hang on I'll give you my number."

In the time it took him to return with a card Callum had returned, clutching a party bag in one hand. Giving the card to Buffy, Angel pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered "See you soon." in her ear. Dropping to his knees so he was Callum's height, he ran one hand through his son's hair, and stared at him with a look of sheer wonder. "Hey kid." He said.

"Hey Angel." Callum returned somewhat uncertainly.

"Would you mind if I came and saw you again?"

Pausing for a moment Callum looked up at his mother who smiled softly. "It's okay Callum." She reassured him.

"I guess." He said finally.

 

 

Buffy smiled reassuringly at Callum across the table. They where sitting in a little Italian restaurant in the back streets of Dublin that they had been reliably informed sold amazing ice-cream, glancing at the menu Buffy could guess how they afforded their boasted top class ingredients. At least Angel was paying… or he would when he arrived, which he hadn't yet.

Glancing down at her white sundress with red flower detailing and beaded trim she wondered if it was suitable at all for the conversation they where about to have. But then there where hardly self-help books for this kind of thing… Arlene had rapidly realised exactly why Buffy had so large a suitcase, and was deeply fed up before Buffy had made her way through even one trying to decide what she should wear. "Mamma?" Callum's voice wafted up to her.

Smiling at him, she glanced down at the drawing he was swiftly covering the napkin with, the scales again… shaking her head she focused on him.

"Do I hafta call Angel Daddy now?"

"Uh…" I don't know! A voice in her head yelled. "I guess… he is your daddy, Cal, but if you don't want to…" She trailed off, but Callum's expectant gaze did not waver. "Why don't we talk about it when he gets here?" She hastily finished. If he ever gets here…

"I'm late." Angel sighed from over her shoulder, spinning to face him, she tried to remember how to breathe as her heart constricted in her chest. It wasn't fair! How could he still do this to her? Why was it that every time she closed her eyes all she could see was his chocolate brown gaze hovering over her, remember the gentle touch of his fingers on her skin… the smell of his hair. And he was so damned disaffected. He could walk back into her life like nothing happened, and she'd let him… just because he was Angel, and God help her she loved him more than she ever believed was possible. She realised he was waiting for her to say something and she smiled weakly.

"Oh, hey, no. It's fine. We were late as well… couldn't decide what to wear."

"I had that issue. They should make handbooks." Angel said, his words echoing her thoughts, and his half-smile eliciting a shiver of warmth that ran down her spine. "I bet mommy had three suitcases of clothes to choose from, Callum."

Callum's face split into a smile "Four!" he laughed, "…Arlene fell asleep helpin' mamma choose."

"If it helps I think you made the right decision… you look beautiful Buffy." Heat curled in her stomach, and she cursed her fate again, to be forced to look and not touch with this guy she wanted so badly it hurt. She mentally cursed him for teasing her, when he didn't love her… she sighed. "Don't you think she looks beautiful?" he asked Callum.

Callum just shrugged. "She looks pretty."

Buffy laughed at him, and running a hand through his hair she pressed a kiss into his locks. "Thanks baby." A waiter came round to take their order and Callum ordered the biggest ice-cream he could, guiltily Buffy ordered her own moderately sized chocolate one knowing she'd have to finish Callum's, but dammit, she needed chocolate. Callum's attention had been stolen by the paper in front of him, and he frowned in concentration as he tried to draw the scale pendent again.

"There's a lot needs to be said." Buffy finally said. "Some of it not entirely suitable for minor ears… but…"

"We've got to start somewhere." Angel finished.

"Yeah." Buffy, glanced away from her Angel, wondering how it was that he could still do that… read her mind like there was nothing between them but air and blood… a single being in two separate bodies. "So I guess you know how he came to exist."

"Thanksgiving…" Angel echoed, "just before I came back to Ireland."

"So the question would be why didn't you come back?" Buffy asked, her eyes locked with Angel's and in that one moment she saw it all, his doubt and fear and insecurity and she could do nothing but look away as the waiter came back with their food. "I'm sorry I…"

"Buffy-"

"No, I… how are we going to deal with this?" she quickly cut him off.

"Deal?" His brow creased.

"I mean… do you want to be involved? If that wasn't what you wanted…" Buffy trailed off, as Angel shook his head vehemently.

"I've never wanted anything more in my entire life." He sighed. "I've missed out already… I don't want to lose anymore time with my son. And I don't understand why you didn't call me."

"I know. I'm so sorry Angel. I was hurt that you never called me. The longer I put it off the harder it was." She tried to remember the whole mature rational adult plan. "I'm really glad we're here now and I guess we're going to have to come to some kind of arrangement…" Buffy laughed, "I never thought I'd be sitting in an ice-cream bar discussing transatlantic childcare with you."

"Me neither." Angel admitted. Buffy's heart broke that tiny bit more. Of course it hadn't been what he wanted… she was just some girl he'd had a thing with once, nothing more and nothing less. She hadn't wanted it this way either… she'd wanted a big wedding and bridesmaids and all those other things girls where meant to have… and so had he. But apparently not with her.

"I always thought after we were done with college, I'd take you to Ireland… down to Claddagh and propose on the beach across from Galway bay. I never thought we'd break up the way we did."

"You never said goodbye, or that you weren't coming back. It wasn't a break up, you left me." Buffy shot back quietly, mindful of the child beside her, as her mind swam with visions of the proposal Angel had planned… and she wished bitterly that she could go back to that day and change things. Make him decide then what he wanted instead of waiting until now. "We could split it to follow school patterns, so he spends the semesters with one of us and holidays with the other."

Angel frowned. "That seems disruptive."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Children are."

"No, I meant for him, he'll make friends at school and then won't be able to see them in the holidays, and wherever he is during the holidays it'll be difficult to make friends because everyone else knows each other from school…" Angel trailed off. "I studied abroad and it was a weird thing to be doing at seventeen, at three I would have died."

"Then what would you do?"

"Either you move here, or I'll move to America."

Buffy blinked. "But… Angel…" She trailed off, eyes locked with his, and there it was again, the undying love and compassion, the willingness to do anything for her, the way he always had… the look she'd thought was only for her. Oh God, she breathed… how could life be like this? How could he be willing to move continents for their son but not for her… and still look at her like that.

"Mamma!" Callum yelled impatiently, tugging at Buffy's arm, wrenching her eyes from Angel's she tried to sort out the muddle of thoughts drifting though her mind. "What is it?"

"The lady from the train." He told her secretively, pointing across the café. Brow furrowing, Buffy followed his gaze, sure enough there across the room, a woman sat turned away from them she wore a black coat so big it seemed like a cloak on her small frame. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun tinged with grey.

Now blatantly staring, Buffy felt her hand drop Callum's as he struggled away from her, trying to get down form his chair to greet the woman. Just as his feet touched the ground the woman turned to face Buffy, thick coal black hair fell loose from the bun to frame her olive skin and sparkling brown eyes that caught Buffy's gaze for long moments before she turned away. Catching Callum as he tried to run past her and pulling him onto her lap she took in the figure again and wondered how she could have mistaken her for an old woman, what she had thought was grey hair was merely reflection from the cafe's candles and lights, and the hand that pushed ice-cream around in the glass with a long spoon was smooth and young - a deep contrast to the woman from the train.

Struggling in her grip, Callum whined at her. "Mamma, stop it!"

"Shh, baby, it's not her. Didn't you see? She's much too young." She tried to convince him.

"It's her!" Callum insisted loudly, and Buffy felt the gaze of the occupants of several nearby tables on her.

"Cal…" Buffy tried again. "That wasn't her."

"It was." He insisted, screwing up his fist he slammed his hand against the arm that held him imprisoned, the pain was far more than she expected, and shocked that he would have hit her, Buffy let him slip from her grip. Landing on the floor, Callum had one moment of freedom before Angel scooped him up in his arms.

"Hey! What was that about? You can't hit people." Pulling a few loose notes out of his pocket, Angel dropped them on the table before standing up. "I think it's time to go mister." Balancing a struggling Callum on one hip, Angel motioned towards the door.

She sat for a moment, taking in this man… this Angel, who when informed of his lot, obediently slipped into the role of father with no previous training and little incentive, but did so willingly and gratefully, including the parts that sucked like telling Cal off, and denying him his promised ice-cream.

Somehow Angel's hand had found hers. The adjacent table was clucking about teenage parents and Buffy and Angel's doubtless numerous criminal convictions as they swept past together. She couldn't help but smile.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun rolled round the sky then dipped under the horizon as night well and truly set in over the rich Foxrock suburb. Buffy was curled up on the sofa, glass of wine in hand, filled with the same sleepy happiness she had been filled with since Angel had taken her hand and led her out of the café earlier that day. Callum was in Connor's room stretched out in the stupefied sleep of children everywhere on the guest bed. Moving to sit next to her, Angel sighed and propped his feet up on the central table. "Ionuin," he sighed, letting his own glass drop to the table as he did so.

"Angel?" She murmured in return, twisting to face him.

"What was he like? As a baby?" He asked.

"Quiet… and tiny." She smiled. "He was early, but the doctors weren't really surprised, given how small and young I was. When he was born he didn't cry straight away, just opened his eyes and looked around him. They thought there was something wrong and they wouldn't let me hold him, just wanted to take him away for tests. But as soon as they took him out the door he started crying. Like he knew there wasn't anything wrong with him." She smiled remembering it. "He reminded me so much of you when he did that. I wanted to call him Angel… but I didn't want…" Her eyes met his for one baleful moment. 'I didn't want the others to know how much I missed you,' she finished silently. Seeing his expectant eyes she rushed out the first thing she thought of, "I didn't want him to get confused when you met."

"So you called him something Irish instead?"

"I wouldn't've been able to take your kicked puppy expression if it hadn't been Irish."

Angel laughed. "I guess I would've been upset if you hadn't."

"See, I know you better than anyone mister broody." She joked, then remembering the distance between them, she turned away. "Or y'know, I did."

Sensing the connection had broken again, Angel let one hand run down the smooth skin of her arm, and felt her warm under his touch. Feeling the familiar current of lust and desire swirling through her, Buffy forcibly pulled herself away covering the move with a weak smile. Angel frowned at the motion but didn't try to touch her again. Hesitantly he met her gaze again. "Did you… are you involved with anyone?"

Turning back to face him she saw the possessive interest in his eyes, and she wondered what he wanted her to say. "No. Not recently. Men suddenly loose interest when I tell them about Callum." Drawing in a deep breath she mentally crossed her fingers. "What about you?"

"Not really." He replied dismissively and Buffy tried not to analyse why she was so relieved at his answer. He smiled suddenly, and Buffy wrinkled her nose at him. "I was just thinking… how beautiful you must have looked when you were pregnant." He explained hesitantly.

Buffy blushed. "Hardly. More fat and whale-like."

Angel just smiled at her, the hand that she had been so skittish of resting on her arm slid back up to cup her cheek and he watched as she took in a quick heady breath to reign in her reaction to him. Rubbing the skin softly with his fingertips he felt her resistance melt a little at a time until her cheek was cradled comfortably in his hand and her eyes where half-closed from the sheer memories he was arousing. Tentatively he moved his other hand to rest on her hip, the touch was soft and delicate a far cry from the wild embraces they had once shared… but they where ex - even this was against the rules. His face hovering an inch from hers, Angel whispered "beautiful" again before seizing her lips.

She couldn't help but open her lips to him, pressing closer in his embrace until she could feel the muscled wall of his chest pressing against her, and his hands where snaked through her hair, lips, tongue and teeth fighting for control in a battle so wrought with tension she thought she would die. One of her hands curled over his chest and she felt his heart running at a thousand miles a minute, puffing a breath against his lips she giggled at the instant pleasure kissing him always brought.

He pressed a kiss against the tip of her nose. "That's very distracting." She informed him dryly. Stealing a butterfly kiss from his lips she drew away and bit her lip, hazel eyes meeting his chocolate brown. She let the swollen flesh drop from the grip of her teeth and her mouth fell open to speak.

Steeling her reserve her eyes flitted up to his again and she wished so desperately that they could make it work. That she could spend a thousand heated nights wrapped in his embrace. She had to stop things now, before anything more… mentally she sighed, "Angel… I can't, this can't be anything-"

Callum's terror-ridden scream ripped through the air like an unknown jet-engine ploughing through the house.

Buffy was on her feet in a moment, stumbling to get her bearings she tore through the hallways in what she hoped was the direction of Connor's room, silently she cursed Angel and his wealth for having such a damn big house, at her mom's old house in Sunnydale it would only have taken moments to reach her petrified son. Angel's hand gripped hers and he guided her toward their son's screams, a moment later she slipped past Angel through the door and rushed headlong inside.

She saw Connor first, he was sitting up in his bed screaming himself hoarse in big gulping breaths that where only impeded by halting cries for his mum. Following his eyes she found herself staring at her own son. He'd stopped screaming now, his tiny body wedged between the headboard and the wall, he was scrunched up and silent tears ran down his cheeks as he clutched his necklace in front of him and rocked silently.

Slowly she walked toward him looking around the room and behind the door as she did so, trying to find the source of his agitation. Sitting on his bed she reached out her arms to him and he fell into her lap, clutching at her clothes desperately. "Baby?" She whispered quietly, instantly wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer to her breast. "Shh… baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" She whispered over and over again.

Still stood in the doorway, Angel moved into the room to let Connor's father run in and bundle Connor up in his arms. Connor collapsed into the cradle of arms and cried into his daddy's shirt. Kissing his son's locks the man looked up at Angel. "That was a bloody sight more than a nightmare. What happened?" He demanded roughly.

Angel could only stare apologetically back - his shoulders lifting in an shrug. Moving toward Buffy he sat on Callum's bed and wrapped his arms around the crying mother and child to meet the gaze of his son. A chocolate brown gaze filled with blank terror and horror at something he seemed unable to say a thing about. "Daddy?" Callum finally whispered solemnly.

Buffy looked up at the word, her eyes meeting Angel's for a moment then shifting to Cal's upturned face. "They won't go away." He went on, "I told 'em to, but… they won't."

Angel nodded grimly, and let one hand float down the jawline of the child infront of him. "Who are they?"

Cal looked away, watching his hands for long moments as the played with the fabric of his pyjamas. Finally he muttered, "they hurt the man… the vampires… they hurt him in the neck and there was red everywhere." He picked at the skin on his arm agitatedly. "They wanna hurt me." He finished quietly under his breath.

Angel felt Buffy tense in his arms, and pulling in a ragged angry breath he held his little family closer. "They can't hurt you, Cal." He assured Callum.

Callum stuck his wavering lip out, on the edge of tears again. "D'you promise?"

"I promise." Angel swore. "Your mom and I aren't going to let them anywhere near you."

 

 

Hours later Buffy sat guard at the doorway of the room, her back was pressed against the wooden frame and her head lolled back as though she had fallen asleep there. But her eyes were open: cool, green and lucid. The bleached blonde man she'd seen comforting Connor earlier has been introduced as Spike, his father… but the rest of the conversation was a blur, her distraction too much to take anything in.

She felt Angel before she saw his legs in front of her. The familiar tug at her heartstrings she thought her memories had exaggerated… but now she was near him again and it was almost shocking how accurately she had preserved her image of him, from the taste of his lips to the size of his feet. What was it people said about the size of men's feet…

He sat down next to her, his fingers brushing against hers. He said nothing for a while, just letting her bask in the security of his presence, and the comfort of his fist wrapped around hers. Nearly an hour passed by like that before a spider scuttled past them, shifting to watch it Buffy's eyes met Angel's and she nodded, silently letting him know she didn't mind sharing some of the things that weighed on her mind.

"You know why he reacted like that." He finally said.

When she replied her voice was stiff and closed. "Yes."

His eyebrow twitched and she thought for a moment she saw a flicker of emotion scuttle across his face. "I-" He paused as though weighing the importance of his words. "It was just a dream Buffy."

She smiled faintly, "Perhaps." He closed his eyes momentarily and she knew he was desperately wondering what was going on in her mind.

"How could it not be? Vampires don't exist, Buffy."

She nodded compliantly. "I didn't say they did."

Crumpling forward he pulled her face to his cradling her head in his hands "Please…" he begged. "Please tell me what's wrong…"

She melted into him her arms wrapping around his frame to pull him closer, though she kept her head level with his, so he could see the pain surging through her eyes as she pressed her lips to his in an urgent kiss. "I don't know." She whispered to him. "Not yet… not…" Their ailing relationship be damned. She needed him, and burying her face in his shirt she closed her eyes and let him comfort her.

Desperately she hoped he wouldn't hate her for what had happened.

She knew exactly what was wrong with Callum.

 

 

Buffy spent the night restlessly pacing around Angel's guest room and resisting the urge to sneak into his own (doubtless excessively large) bed and curl up next to her ex. After numerous shared kisses the day before she had no idea if to do so would be appropriate or not. The strange state of affairs she was constantly living in kept getting more and more muddled and when the sun crept up over the horizon to light her room with pale pink rays she was happy to see the end of her sleepless night.

Throwing on the dress she'd been wearing the day before she wrinkled her nose at her crumpled form, she needed to go back to Arlene's for a change of clothes and a shower at least, longer really, to fill Arlene in on everything that had happened. Heading down the hallway she peaked in on Connor and Callum to find them up already, playing on the floor of Connor's bedroom the drama of the night before apparently forgotten.

It took them a couple of minutes for them to notice her, wrapped up as they were in the fleet of toy cars they were charging round the carpet in break neck hand-held races. Getting to his feet Cal ran over with his arms spread out as was customary when he wanted to pick her up. Obediently she did as requested, and starting a little realised it wouldn't be long before he was too heavy for her to carry around any more. He grew far too much and too often for her liking.

"Morning Cal." She said pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he folded into her grip, head leaning against her shoulder. "Good morning Connor."

"Hey Buffy!" Connor replied brightly, chucking the toy cars into a box beside his bed. "Can we go downstairs and play now?"

Buffy paused and glanced at the clock in the corner. "Does your mommy normally let you?"

Connor nodded resolutely. "So long as somebody comes down with me."

Her eyes ticked between the two boys and seeing no particularly guilty smiles she acquiesced. "Okay. But it's really early and I think your mommy and daddy and Angel are still sleeping, so we're going to be really quiet okay?"

The two cousins nodded sagely, deep conspirators in a dark plan, and Buffy thought really they would have made fantastic twins. She'd've died of exhaustion, but they'd've had a great time. They were inseparable already as it was. Cal tugged at her arm and she let him down onto the floor speeding into a half run, Cal caught up with Connor as he led them down the corridor and stairs, leaving Buffy to watch them as they skipped along next to each other, whispering and giggling through the silent halls.

If she took up Angel's offer for him to move back to the States with them then she would be separating her son from his first proper friend, and if she moved here… she resisted a laugh. The idea was insane, much as with Angel's apparent new found money and her own modest publishing income she wouldn't have to worry about needing people to look after Cal her friends were worth far more to her than that. She didn't know how to contemplate moving six thousand miles away from them, from her mother's grave, from daily sunny weather.

The kids charged into the huge open plan sitting room and she started the coffee machine for an extreme dose of caffeine. Settling on the sofa she flicked on the television with half an eye on the kids and the sounds of percolating coffee rattling away in one ear she tried to concentrate on the headlines rushing past as the already familiar Irish accents of the presenters rumbled away quietly from the box.

The coffee machine clicked quietly to tell her it was ready for consumption, and suddenly desperately needing the fix Buffy hurried over to help herself to a mug full. A quick tour round the kitchen and she'd found the mugs, sugar and milk and Buffy was leaning against the counter sipping away at the gorgeous thick elixir of the gods otherwise known as coffee. Pausing a moment to let it cool she smiled at the mug warming her hands, really whoever had invented this stuff deserved a Nobel prize, many sleepless nights had been rescued with just a –

The mug slipped from her hands.

"Angel!" she yelped pathetically, trying to jump backwards to avoid the splashes of burning hot coffee spreading across the stone floor of the kitchen. _Again. Seriously Buffy.  
Get a grip_

He rushed over to help her, all shirtless and covered in paint. And she screamed inside her head, why was she so goddamn incapable of controlling herself around him!

"I didn't mean to startle you," he was apologising as he picked up a dishcloth from the sideboard and started trying to mop up the mess.

"It's my fault, I didn't realise you were up…" she spoke over him, trying to tear her eyes away from the muscles on his back rippling under a Griffon tattoo she'd not seen before. Dropping to her knees she tried to pick up the bigger bits of broken mug, gingerly picking them up by the fingers before crossing the room to throw them in the bin.

She felt a wet touch slide up her calf and startled she moved away, looking down she saw Angel's cheeky grin and the dishcloth in his hand. "You had coffee on your leg."

She paused, uncertain. "Oh." Confusion flashed across his features for a remote second, but before Buffy had much time to address it the boys were peeping their heads around the counters and Angel and Buffy were instantly both on their feet and shooing the barefooted kids away from the broken crockery.

Satisfied that Callum and Connor were back playing on the carpet in the sitting area where they should be and all of the remaining spillage had been swept up, Buffy lent against the kitchen counter behind her and suddenly became extremely aware of how close she was to Angel's half naked form she was.

"Want some more coffee?"

She frowned. "In this house, I really don't know if that's a good idea."

Angel smiled wickedly. "I can put it in one of Connor's unspillable mugs."

Buffy laughed, "okay, let's not go quite that far. I'm not that accident prone."

"Really." He raised an eyebrow. "Learnt how to drive yet?"

"I-" she cast her eyes downward. "No driving school in a thirty mile radius of Sunnydale will teach me."

Angel burst out laughing, and begrudgingly Buffy joined in, Angel was… she didn't remember Angel being like this. So happy, and of course she was happy for him, but at the same time. The choices they were going to have to make, she didn't want to take any of his new found happiness away.

Falling easily into conversation, Buffy sat on a breakfast stool while Angel cooked for her, blueberry pancakes and fresh fruit appearing steadily before her until she couldn't eat anymore and she was feeding him strawberries from her plate. Somehow they had moved closer and closer together until Angel was pressed against her, her legs falling on either side of his as he pushed the proffered strawberry away and pressed a kiss to her lips instead. She could taste coffee, strawberries and masses of Angel on his tongue and she tried to shuffle closer still, until her hands were running through his hair and he was practically squashing her into the counter.

Pausing for breath he pulled a fraction away kept pressing silent butterfly kisses against her swollen lips. They didn't talk. To do so would be to make this, this – whatever it was they were doing – meaningful. And meanings could be misinterpreted, misunderstood. For now at least Buffy forgot the consequences, five year plans and tough decisions and gave into the desperate want for Angel that had sent her packing from every other man since. She caught his lips again and again, hands roaming the solid, paint covered wall of his chest while his slipped over and along the lines of her dress, slipping down to her thigh to push the hem up her legs. She scooted closer still, closing her eyes and letting the softest moan pass her lips as his soft kisses moved down to the column of her neck.

"Mamma?"

She tried to shove Angel away, eyes jumping open. Doggedly, he moved only a fraction away, enough to turn and squint at their little boy but not enough to remove the constant contact between them.

Callum to his credit, didn't seem to be too confused by his parents embrace and was staring at the floor instead. "Is it safe, mamma?"

"Yes sweetie, it's fine." Slipping down from her stool, but staying in physical contact with Angel she crouched on the floor to be the same height as her son. "Is everything okay?"

"Can we have cookies for breakfast?" He asked seriously.

Buffy laughed. "We'll see what Kathy has later. Go back and play with Connor, he's probably lonely on his own."

"Will you come too?"

Buffy shared a glance with Angel. "Okay."

Rising back to her feet Buffy felt Angel's hand slip into hers as they walked from one room to the next. She was frankly both confused and glad for the strange state of affairs she had fallen into. Admittedly, she had never really thought realistically that Angel would kick her out after she told him about their son. But after years of non-contact between the two of them she hadn't really expected him to be all over her either. Now, in the smooth light of the morning away from Callum's dreams and the nagging doubt that - she shock the thought away and glanced out through the huge glass doors of the living room into the rolling grass of the house's gardens beyond. In this moment, living here in Ireland with Angel and his sister's family seemed like an amazingly brilliant idea.

Angel settled down on the sofa and pulled Buffy down so that she was curled up next to him, head pillowed on her chest where she could watch their son and nephew building up their car emporium in the shadow of the rolling Irish newscasters behind them.

"Thanks, John," one of the reporters echoed as it cut to his segment. "I'm here at Tara Street DART station, where the third body has been found in what seems to be a series of cult killings. A leaked garda report received by this station suggests that the gang model themselves on mythological 'vampires' the drain the blood of their victims-" Buffy could see the reporter was trying to suppress his grin at the somewhat ludicrous idea "-through bite marks in the neck. In major cities like London and New York there have previously been reporters of youth gangs living under bridges using knives and artificial mouth pieces to try and drain the blood of victims this way. However most victims have previously survived having easily fought off their attackers. In these attacks in Dublin the garda have yet to find any survivors of attacks, and are urging the public to come forward if they have any information."

"Can't imagine that's gone down very well at the PA office of the garda."

Buffy laughed, "probably not."

Cal had stepped away from the toys and shuffled back towards his parents, climbing onto Angel's lap to cuddle against them both. "Mommy…"

"It's okay, Cal." Angel smiled, wrapping him in a hug with his free arm and pressing a kiss against the top of his head. "Vampires aren't real, and if they were your mamma and me will always keep you safe."

"But that's him."

Buffy frowned, lifting herself up into a proper sitting position to look Cal in the eye. Uncertain fear shimmered there and she followed his outstretched arm to the picture on the screen. A young man with dark brown friendly eyes. "What do you mean, Callum?"

"He's the man I saw yesterday in my dream. The one the bad men killed."

Angel shifted Callum around on his lap to face him. "It can't have been Cal, maybe he just looks very similar."

Buffy flinched. Bad idea, Angel… Cal's face hardened instantly. "It was so him!" He yelled struggling against Angel's grip. But he wasn't just having a temper tantrum because Angel told him he was wrong. He was still scared, hot tears pricked his eyes and his face was screwed up and red, snot already dribbling down his face as he yelled and screamed.

Wrestling the screaming infant from Angel's grip Buffy pinioned him against her chest. "Calm down, Cal, mamma's here…" she whispered into his hair rocking him against her as she paced the room. Angel was standing to one side, clearly confused as to what he'd done that was so wrong and Connor was staring up at his friend, clearly trying to work out if he should be acting upset too.

"It was him, it was him!" He screamed and Buffy sighed, turning away from Angel as she did what she knew she shouldn't.

"I know Cal. I saw him too."


	6. Chapter 6

_"I saw it too."_

Angel didn't seem to know how to react. Peeking over Callum's head Buffy could see his mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he suddenly lurched to his feet. He wound through the room pacing in circles and avoiding the boys and their toys without seeming to actually see or notice them. Finally he stopped and shot Buffy a hurt and confused look from across the room, as Callum's heaving sobs died down to sighs and mumbles. "Buffy, I have no idea what you're talking about."

She sighed heavily and getting up from the sofa lent down to slide Callum back to the floor and his puzzled little friend. "Connor can you look after Callum for me sweetie? He should be okay now." Connor nodded mutely as she left her son behind. Buffy grabbed Angel's arm to steer him back into the kitchen area and out of earshot of the kids.

"Did you read my book Angel?" Buffy asked quietly.

"Slayer? Of course, but-"

"I didn't make it up." He quirked one eyebrow at her and she held up her hand to cut him off. "Obviously, I made some of it up. A lot in fact. But the basic idea… that there's a girl out there who fights demons at night? I know it's true. I've seen it." She waved her hand absently and tried to distract herself. Shuffling a pile of letters on the counter uselessly in her hands, she kept her eyes away from Angel unwilling to witness his disbelief. "I have these dreams. Horrible nightmares. Where monsters kill people. Over and over again. My mom sent me to a therapist, more than one." She could feel the grim smile on her face and knocked it away thinking of the bills her mother must've paid to be told repeatedly there was nothing to be done. "It didn't help. I was so tired and anxious all the time, I started getting in trouble at school in LA. They kicked me out and we moved to Sunnydale. My mum thought a fresh start would make things, but instead it got worse."

She straightened up, peeking at Angel under her lashes, but he wasn't giving anything away. "It wasn't just that I had more dreams, though I did. It was that suddenly I was dreaming about people I'd sat next to in Chem class that day. When I went to school after they'd be missing or found dead."

"Buffy." He ran one hand through his spiked dark hair. The hair he'd loved to let her play with. Before. "This can't be. It must be a coincidence."

Her lip twitched in glum acceptance. "No coincidence. There's no such thing as 23 identical coincidences. 19 students, 2 teachers, 2 principals. Locals too. I saw all of their deaths. Their graphic violent horrible ends. I couldn't cope. I tried to save them. But it's not prophetic. I don't get to know in advance. I'd just turn up in the woods and fall over a corpse."

Her hand was idly smoothing over the counter top and she flicked her eyes back to him. He was trying to puzzle it out. Come up with a rational solution. She allowed him the chance. She'd done the same often enough. "Not long before you came to Sunnydale I was assigned a guidance counselor. He also did not get it." She felt herself smiling genuinely as she thought of the man who'd helped her so much without realizing how. "He told me to look at the smaller details in the dream and try to change them. Try and make a blue top pink. Eventually, I guess the idea was to try and learn how to control my dreams, make them nicer, help the people in them. Once I tore my eyes away from the horror and started looking at what else was going on I started seeing this girl. All the time." Buffy sighed. Bringing her coffee mug to her lip for a sip while she thought about how to explain it. "You met her you know."

"What?"

"About my size, skinny, dark hair. Wears a lot of leather. Pain in the butt."

He frowned. "Faith?"

"That would be her. Faith's the Slayer. It took me a while to work out. Faith was in a lot of my dreams. She'd be too late, of course. Because the person would die. But sometimes she nearly managed. Usually she was fighting off monsters trying to get to them. I found out she lived in that scummy motel off the highway. After a while I started popping by, taking meals if she was injured the day before."

"Meals? Now I know you're lying." But Angel's eyes didn't say liar. He was interested, relaxed, curious. Little things were making sense.

"Mom made them." Buffy laughed, "she loved that I wanted to help someone. Even if she didn't know the details. Anyway, after a while she got to trust me. If there were demons she'd missed I'd tell her where they'd been."

"You helped." Angel echoed a small smile gracing his lips.

"Of course."

His hand found hers and he gripped her palm tightly for a moment. "For you. Yes. Of course you helped, when you found a way to do it. Not everybody would."

Buffy sighed. "Except, after Mom died I needed money. A professor at school was sympathetic and suggested I write a book about my experiences. I'm not sure he was expecting Slayer, but he helped me get it published. Now Faith hates me. I have to leave whatever info I've got on her voicemail."

"I'm sorry." He sighed. "I have to ask you. About Fred. She went missing from campus that day we had, in LA."

Buffy nodded slowly. Painfully. "I don't… Fred's gone. I'm sorry Angel. You really need to talk to Gunn about this."

Mutely Angel flicked his eyes over Buffy's face searchingly. "I know, Buffy. Gunn, we talked about it at the time. I just-" He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "I had no idea Buffy – I knew what happened with Fred, and her Professor, and that thing from the portal. I had no idea there were more. That there are enough demons out there to have killed 23 people just from you school. That man on the television…"

He trailed off. "That Callum also saw." He sighed. "I take it this gift is contagious."

"Apparently." Buffy replied every bit as glumly. "You know I wouldn't want this for him."

"It's okay." Absently he drew her closer, folding her into the curve of his chest and under his arm as he ran as his fingers through her hair and down her back.

She shook her head against his warm chest "It isn't okay, Angel. It's about twenty state lines over from okay. I can cope with me. But not Callum. I didn't want him to be like me."

"I did." He sighed deeply and she could feel his lungs working under his shirt, she was surrounded by the bulk of his reassuring presence. "I'm sorry I didn't come back for you, Buffy. It took so long to sort Kathy out I thought you would have moved on. Xander said... I had no idea about Callum or your mother. I feel like I could have done so much for you and now it's too late."

Buffy leaned back a little from his achingly familiar embrace and took in the worried frown he'd settled into. "Xander said what?! I'm going to kill that little-"

Angel cradled her cheek in his hand. "Apparently the past is another conversation I'll be having with Xander. But for now I'm worried about you and Callum."

"Angel, I'm fine. Callum is fine. At least I know what's going on with his dreams even if I'm not sure what exactly to do about them.

"I do believe you about the dreams." He reassured her. "It makes a lot of you running off at 3am stuff make sense. It just also makes me feel even more terrible for leaving you instead of helping. I don't deserve you."

Buffy touched his face, running one hand along the stubble around his chin. "Well for start you can stop with the blame game." She stretched up on her tip toes to press her lips against his gently and the warmth of his body against hers drew her closer, until her hand was sliding under the buttons of his cotton shirt and smoothing over the hard flesh of his chest underneath.

"Ahem?"

Buffy snatched her hand away guiltily.

"Oh don't mind us love." Spike piped up from behind his wife. "Angel here could really do with a good roll in the hay."

"Spike!" A chorus of groans filled the kitchen.

"What?" His perplexity was definitely fake as he made his way to the fridge and started chucking things out ready for breakfast. "Can't help it if Angel's been moping over you for years. For a while -" He paused as he dug out something at the back and emerged a moment later with ketchup. "I was sympathetic. I too know the love of a difficult woman. But Barry Manilow on repeat got old fucking fast."

Spike surveyed his open-jawed audience. "So who wants a fry-up?"

Buffy and Kathy were matched in their embarrassment, red-faced and silently gaping at the bleached blonde. Angel settled for a seething glare and curled fist. Kathy broke the silence first, shaking her head as she took a seat at the counter. "Christ you'd've thought I'd've been used to that man by now."

"Manilow?" Buffy finally mouthed. "You kept that under wraps."

"It's not a deal-breaker is it pet? I'd never hear the end of."

Buffy slipped her hand quietly into Angel's and willed him to restrain himself. "If you want rid of me you'll have to try harder than that."

A flicker of a smile touched Angel's lips and Buffy's stomach lurched in response. This was them being couple-ly. Slipped right back into it. And guessing by his firm grip on her hand, Angel was as happy with it as she was.

Except. "Is that really the time?" She motioned to the clock on the big fridge.

"Ye-es." Kathy echoed back uncertainly.

"Arlene is going to go spare." Buffy span around trying to remember what she needed to do and spotted Callum still playing in his jammies, and not been fed yet. "Angel? If I run to Arlene's are you alright with Callum?"

"Absolutely." Angel near jumped at the chance. He leaned over the counter and waved at his son to get his attention, a silly grin spread over his face. "Do you want to stay here while your mom pops out Callum?"

Callum considered it thoughtfully. "Here with Connor?"

Angel nodded.

"Sure." He yelled lunging at his friend as they dropped their cars and started chasing each other round in a fast and furious game of chase.

Angel smiled smugly at Buffy. "See – no problems. Go see your aunt. She'll be wondering what happened to you."

 

 

Buffy was back in Sandycove an hour and change later. But her mind and heart was resolutely in Fox Rock at Caritas with Angel and her son as Arlene fussed around her, offering the breakfast she'd missed.

"Looks like a good time was had by all."

"Sorry?" Buffy dragged herself back to Arlene. "What did you say?"

"That look on your face." Arlene smirked. "I've not seen that one for a few years. Take it your boy is just as fine as you remember. Or maybe you've got a more entertaining reason than usual for the bags under your eyes."

"Ye- Arlene!" Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin. Then relaxed and chuckled "somebody wants to be a thoroughly modern auntie."

"Somebody isn't blind." She shot back. "Anyway, if you want to be with Angel I'm pleased for you. It'll be lovely for your boy. And better for me if he'll convince you to stay this side of the pond."

"Maybe." Buffy replied, and pushed that worry away to think on more. "Nothing's official." She amended. "Just waiting to see how things go. Rushing doesn't help anything." She reasoned. It was easy enough to be cautious having once been the pregnant voice of experience.

"Funny family he comes from though. He just lives with his sister and her husband now?"

"Yes. Spike, and their son." Buffy filled in absently.

"At Caritas you say?" Buffy nodded. "I remember it from when his grandfather lived there. Although it burned down and they moved. I heard your Angel rebuilt it with the money from his paintings."

Buffy shrugged. "We haven't really talked about his family. He doesn't speak to any of them outside of his sister. Whenever he does he just talks about how obsessed they all are with money and debt."

"Really?" Arlene seemed surprised. "His grandmother was a lovely soul. Angel told me that was how Spike met the family, he's a nurse, came over to treat Isabella when she was sick. Must've been a fighter too, she lived a long time ago."

"Spike's a nurse?" There weren't words for the shock Buffy was feeling. "Can't imagine his bedside manner."

Arlene laughed in a loud burst. "Oh, I know, I've met him. And his mother. But it's a big healing family that one. A lot of nurses and midwives, even the men, right back beyond when people didn't think men could be nurses."

"I feel like the world is revolving backwards." Buffy shook her head to shake the feeling away and stood up from her seat a little regretfully at leaving her aunt behind.

Perhaps she knew what Buffy was thinking, because Arlene stood too and went to shoo Buffy away. "You didn't come here to see me, missy, much as I love it. Go back to your Angel."

"Thanks, Arlene." Buffy smiled, and she grabbed her bad and headed back towards the door. "I'll give you a call later and fill you in."

"You better!" Arlene threatened.

 

 

On the way back Buffy had decided to detour and pop to the shops for a few bits and pieces. Little gifts for Kathy and Spike for putting up with their unexpected visitors and they weighed against her leg as she trudged down the hill towards Caritas. The sky was just starting to tinge with the sunset. Little jets of pink and orange creeping through the sky and darkening the few clouds to tumultuous looking grays and blues.

She was much later than she'd intended to be and a the couple of bottles of wine in the bag clinked as she tried to hurry herself. It would be bedtime soon, if not already gone and Callum might be funny about it without her. Buffy wondered how Angel had coped. She assumed since Connor was living in the same house he must have babysat often enough but a whole day was a different thing to a few snatched hours and she hoped her boy was making a good impression. Buffy was a little surprised to realise she wasn't at all worried about Angel's ability to look after their son, just that it might all have been a bit overwhelming to leave them for so long so early.

A bitter smell was being swept in on the breeze and glancing at the skyline Buffy wondered who was starting a barbecue when it was already getting dark. A thin coil of smoke wreathed it's way past the trees below her and she frowned.

Buffy heard an echoed muffled poof and shattering glass. Her gut rolled and wetness splashed her legs.

But she was already running. The smoke was already thickening up, way too much for a barbecue or bonfire. The sky was rapidly turning black and the smell was foul coating her lungs with every breath as her heart pounded and she dived down the hill towards her child and the burning house.

 

 

Part of Buffy had hoped that the further she'd got down the hill it would become obvious that it was not Angel's house whose acrid smell was burning her nostrils. But the smoke just got denser and darker as she approached, and she was glad she'd abandoned her shopping on the sidewalk as she fled through the streets and towards the danger.

What could possibly have happened? She could hear the sharp repeated trill of the fire engine at the back of her hearing but it was distant and she was close. She screeched around the last turn and out of the corner of her eye saw a couple watching from the other side of the street and yelling into a phone.

Or maybe, she skidded as she hit the drive and the little pebbles spat up from her feet and hit against her ankles and calves, they were yelling at her - she could hear them calling out stop. But it was irrelevant.

The door wasn't even closed properly. Smoke tendrils crept out the small gap and hung noxiously in the porch. Buffy spun around quickly checking that Angel and the others weren't standing watching in the yard. But from here she could see the whole front and it was very empty, just abandoned toys and green grass between the hedges and decorative bamboo.

Buffy yanked at her top pulling it up enough to cover her face and keep some of the smoke out as she shouldered the heavy wooden door open. Even the wood felt hot against her limbs and she struggled to stay calm not think of the worst.

The fire roared in her ears. Left and right or her both sides of the house were ablaze. It seemed strange that the middle was full of cloying black smoke but little flames and Buffy stood for a moment wondering what to do next.

A small yelp and a thud drew her attention and Buffy shot across the entrance and up the stairs as quickly as she could manage. The whole hallway stair entry seemed to be kept pretty clear and even almost blind Buffy could pull herself up pretty quickly. She kept one hand gently touching the banister to guide her direction and the polished wood felt horribly warm under her palm.

"No!" A girl. Forward Buffy told herself. Demanded she kept going up onto the landing and heading towards the direction she thought was towards the children's room. "Get the fuck away!" Spike. Unmistakably. Another loud smacking thud that chilled her bones, and twisted her stomach in knots. The air was clearing as she got further from the fire, and she could see through the partially opened door to Connor's room.

A brightly patterned rug, then bleached blonde hair buried in long dark brown, heads slumped together at an awkward angle and with blood pooling on the floor. Their limbs splayed out motionless. They were too still.

They'd been thrown against the wall. Buffy remembered her dreams and her sudden intake of breath made her cough and choke on the ashes in the air, until she heaved and vomited against the wall.

There was nobody else here. It had to be her.

Buffy straightened up and ignored the nausea of her pained stomach. Pulling her shirt back over her mouth she walked determinedly into that little room.

The demon was big. Seven feet easily. He wore a suit. And it was that she noticed first, before the curve of his distended jaw or the tail that swished bleakly from under his charcoal grey dinner jacket.

His head swiveled to watch her. And his blink seemed to go sideways, horribly reptilian with his ridged pale grey skin and swept back hair. "Of course." He hissed, and she could see the black forked tongue that whipped across his lips as he spoke.

It revolted Buffy to see this demon standing here, where her child had slept, and amidst such carnage. She tried not to look at the broken forms of Angel's sister and Spike, but in front of her he'd broken the little toddler bed clean in half and it's bedding lay strewn amongst the toys on the floor, while scrapes and dents littered the walls. Just a few feet away huddled in the corner was her little boy and his cousin. They weren't crying anymore. But their eyes were puffy and red.

Angel was there too. He was kneeling in front of the kids, half crouched, seemingly captivated by the beast that stood before them but trying to shield them all the same. He was watching her too, and silently she stumbled through the wreckage over to him. To join his guard.

She wasn't a Slayer, but she would still fight with whatever she had.

"Who are you?" She yelled at the monster. Hoping to distract him as she searched the wreckage for something that might work as a weapon.

The beast paused. "That's an interesting question, little one. Who? Under these circumstances people usually ask what I am."

"Can't say I give a shit." She replied tightly. "But who gets me to why quicker."

He nodded and smiled touching fingers as he paced lightly in front of them, crushing everything underfoot without any effort. Something sturdy to whack him with, Buffy corrected her quest. "My name is Shylock. As for the why, I'm here for the same why as always. Money."

Buffy stopped looking. Surprised, herself she could feel Angel scramble to his feet next to her "Money?" Angel laughed. "You can have it all, Shylock. Just let us go."

Shylock shock his head and the fear that had been pounding through Buffy's veins since she first saw the smoke from the hill pulsed through her skull. It was devilishly hot from the fire below and sweat poured from every inch of her skin as quietly looked behind Angel to check on the kids. Connor pointed in front of him nervously, and Buffy followed his gaze to a stout piece of four by two that must have been part of his bed. Weapon! But she couldn't grab for it yet. From her angle she could see that Angel had his own chunky piece of bedstead gripped behind his back and she touched his arm gently, tried to get him to relax.

"The problem is, boy, that this isn't your debt. It's Antonio's. I saved his son once. But I upped the price. Two male heirs. I believe they're standing behind you."

"Can't we make a deal too?" Angel begged, and Buffy could hear the panic in his voice. "Anything, please."

"No." Shylock replied, shifting closer towards them. "These two are too significant to pass up. A seer and a warrior. They got those delicious supernatural genes from their parents, and there is no way you've got the only other thing I'd accept."

"What is it?" Buffy demanded.

"Please, we'll find it. Whatever it is."

"No." He snapped. His tongue clicked angrily against his lips and Buffy knew he'd run out of patience. "Get out of the way or I'll kill you too."

"Argh!" Something bleached blonde shot through the air and wrapped itself around Shylock's head, Spike fought dirty, fingers ploughing straight into one creepy eye and black goop poured from the wound. "Now." Buffy yelled quickly grabbing the wooden beam and charging over the rubble to smack the demon square in the balls. If he had balls.

Angel was there too hammering blows on to any bit of the demon he could reach and kicking what he couldn't "Fuck off you bastard!" Someone yelled and for one brief fluttering hopeful moment Buffy thought they were beating him down.

Shylock straightened and knocked them both flying in one viciously fast movement, and his toxic blood sprayed out with the airborne bodies. Buffy's head smacked against the wall and the pain screamed through her nerves until she could hardly see through blurry eyes let alone move.

Across the room Angel grabbed at Shylock's leg and Buffy watched as the demon just dragged her love behind him like he weighed nothing.

His path to the boys was clear and Shylock honed in on them leaning down and reaching out as they screamed and shouted, kicking and wriggling. Buffy rolled over onto her stomach and gripping at the detritus on the floor pulled herself bodily towards her son as Shylock grabbed him by one ankle and straightened dangled her poor screaming child in the air.

"Callum!" She tried to yell.

He was screaming and clutching at his neck, dragging the little gold cross out on it's chain and trying to shove it into the demon's skin.

Shylock grabbed at the necklace impatiently, and as his fist closed around it his mouth opened in a little o. The demon dropped her child, and Buffy managed to scramble to him, pull him into her lap as she threw her arm around Connor too.

"Boy." Shylock hissed. "Where did you get this?"

Callum's head had been buried in Buffy's neck but he pulled away and faced the demon bravely. Cold filled Buffy's veins, and she understood absolutely the way Arlene had described those few days before. Like her little boy, her Callum, her and Angel's son. Was other in a way that was much more than she had already known. "I got it from Isabella." Callum replied calmly. "Are you Shylar - Shy - Shylock? She gave it to protect me from you. Didn't she mommy?"

Callum turned to her and she stared into his beautiful soulful brown eyes. Deep as his father's and remembered the woman in black. "Yes." Buffy managed to murmur.

Her eyes met Shylock's. "That's what you want isn't it."

"Yes. The debt is paid." The words felt like everything. Relief bubbled through Buffy's smoke charred lungs as she checked Connor and Callum, whose eyes seemed to be drooping a little as they snuggled against her. She laughed as relief bubbled through her body, slowing to a choked cough as she eyed the three unconscious adults and realized they still had the fire to deal with.

When she thought of Shylock next he was gone.

 

 

She must have passed out there huddled with the boys because when she opened her eyes the ceiling was checkered white ceiling tiles and a steady beep filled the background.

She coughed and a hand appeared with a glass of water. "Drink this sweetheart, you've inhaled a lot of smoke."

The water tasted like heaven. Smooth and cool and more refreshing than if she'd just left the desert.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Buffy Summers." She croaked, and her hand went to her throat automatically. "It's okay, you've just inhaled a lot of smoke and had a little knock to the head. You're going to be totally fine. We'll just keep you overnight in case of concussion."

Buffy immediately started pulling at the bedding trying to get up.

"Buffy stop it." Someone yelled at her. Their voice was cracked and sore as hers, and she twisted in the bed to see Angel lying next to her. Her limbs stilled as she took in his battered face. "That's better." He added, more quietly. "Callum is good too. They just told me he's at the children's ward with Connor."

"Are you sure?" She demanded as much as she could in her broken voice.

"Yes." The nurse confirmed resolutely. "You can go up and see them in a few minutes. But only if you let us finish checking you over first."

Buffy acquiesced.

 

 

The lot of them didn't manage to be alone until they were checked out. Caritas had been destroyed in the fire, along with all their possessions and most of the art Angel had been working on.

It didn't seem very important, but after sharing with Angel the conversation she and Shylock had had Angel had insisted they visit the derelict property and even sneaked inside before they checked his sister's family into a hotel.

Buffy insisted Angel came back with her and Callum to Arlene's and the little bruised, short of breath trio were solidly a family before they'd even knocked on the door of her apartment.

Arlene fussed over the lot of them, bringing snacks and drinks until Callum was becoming unbearably spoilt and after forty minutes of 'staying up five minutes more' Arlene offered to take him to bed.

Collapsed on the sofa together Buffy listened to the happy end-of-day bath running sounds and breathed contentedly. "We're so lucky to be alive."

Angel nodded mutely from his position next to her on the sofa and pulling something out of his jacket pocket wrapped one arm around Buffy to pull her close against his chest.

"You said Callum got that charm from a woman on the train, who he calls Isabella, right?"

"Sure." She sighed, burying herself further into his chest as she fiddled with a button in her line of sight.

"My grandmother was called Isabella." He held up the little book. "This was her diary. I've read it before, but I never believed she was actually a witch."

"She probably was." Buffy mused, not really getting the point.

"She probably was your Isabella." Angel clarified. "She found out about Shylock and the deal after my Dad made it. She was so angry she stole the amulet and said she would pass it down to protect her descendants. The amulet was what Shylock had given my father so that he became so successful in business, a lucky amulet. But she didn't want Antonio to keep being lucky either. When you kept seeing her… it must have been some kind of spell. Her way of giving it to the person that needed it, without anyone else profiting from it's luck."

It did kind of make sense, and Buffy propped herself up to look Angel in the eye. "If that's true, you're grandmother is one hell of a smart lady. Your Dad, Antonio? Not so much."

"I'm getting that." Angel sighed. "At least it's over now."

"Apart from the whole Connor and Callum potential supernatural duo thing."

"Ah, well." He seized her lips in a kiss as he twisted her round to face him. "We'll deal with that when it comes." He kissed her again, sweetly, before looking her seriously in the eye. "First I'd like to reacquainted with my girlfriend."

She smiled into his lips and wound her hands into his gently spiked hair. "I'm sure we could arrange that."


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular chapter is rated E!   
> It was beta'd by the lovely HoochieMomma who helped me hugely.

That first night, it was all anyone could do to sleep.

Callum was tucked up in a make shift bed in his great-aunt's room, more than a little anxious about being alone. Which left Buffy and Angel on their lonesome with a big comfy bed. In a room with no bleeping machines, ward announcements, visitors or needles. The being home list of perks after surviving a major fire was almost endless.

Sweet numbing slumber won out over crazy monkey sex, for inexplicable reasons.

It was well into the morning when Buffy woke and rolled over, clutching at the sheets to find her lover as she opened her bleary eyes.

"Angel?" She yawned, coming up empty.

The door clicked open. "I'm here."

Buffy was suddenly feeling very awake. Angel'd slung yesterday's trousers back on, but other than that he was very naked. Very deliciously naked. Smooth white skin led from the peeking half open fly to his stubbly chin. She swallowed a breath she didn't know she was holding.

He held up the tray in his hand higher. "Breakfast?" She hadn't even seen it. But there on one of her aunt's old wooden trays, and with a flower stolen from the vase in the kitchen - were steaming piles of bacon and toast.

"Thanks." She murmured, feeling suddenly shy as she sat up, drawing the covers closer around her. It wasn't their usual kind of morning after. She relaxed a little as he sat next to her and set the tray down, offering her juice as he sipped on his own. They'd never had a morning after without sex. Obviously when they had first dated at school as horny teenagers there was no such thing as too tired and mornings consisted of Angel climbing out the window before her mother caught them. Their only other overnight together had been that one day, the little snap shot of happiness before Angel had left to rescue his sister from their livid dad, and everything on that particular day had been emphatically biblical too.

It was nice. It felt normal. Like breakfast in bed on Mothers Day.

"What time is it?"

"Ten." Angel passed her a folded note. "Arlene took Callum to see some relation, figured we needed to sleep."

Buffy nodded gratefully as her eyes swept over the swooping curls of Arlene's writing.

He was wolfing down food and smiling a little so Buffy quickly made her own bacon sandwich before the rest was gone. "You look like you haven't eaten for decades."

He shot her a rogue smile. "Sorry. Feel like I forgot how good food tastes." He scrunched a napkin in one fist as he swallowed his next mouthful. "Do you think there's some chocolate in this house? I love chocolate."

Buffy nodded bemused. "Possibly even ice cream."

"Oh!" He sighed. "Food is amazing."

"Feels good to be alive doesn't it?" She guessed and Angel shot her a pleased look before pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Makes me feel pretty stupid if I'm honest. Worrying for years about whether you might have moved on when I could have just called and asked."

"Yeah." She swallowed a big bite of sandwich thoughtfully. "Don't think I've forgotten about that either. You will be punished." She threatened as her mind moved to delicious visual places. Angel spread armed and chained to the bed while… "I mean, erm. You were stupid. Obviously."

Angel crossed his arms and flicked a skeptical eyebrow at her. "I'm not the only one who could have called, Buffy. I think punishment is going to have to go both ways."

Buffy gulped audibly. "Or you know, we could just call it quits." He shot her a dirty look that made her belly warm in all the right places. "Or not, either way."

He was still looking at her.

"So," she ran her fingers over the edge of the wrinkled blue sheet in an attempt to distract herself from her growing distraction. "how 'bout this whole gaelic hockey thing? Ever played?"

"Yes." He answered, unhelpfully succinctly. Angel was half-lying down, twisted towards her on the bed so he was propped up on his left arm. It hadn't been just her and him shirtless in a long time. She'd forgotten how much totally unnecessary muscle he had. He was an artist for fuck's sake, no painter needed arms like…

"It looks really, um, dangerous." Buffy shot out, desperate to say something to fill the yawning silence as he studied her.

She was wearing yummy sushi pyjamas. Pink cotton. With fish on. God knows what her hair looked like. The blush started creeping up from her collar bone as his right arm inched towards her, hovering just moments away from the bare skin of her wrist where her jammies had ridden up. "Can be." he murmured.

Angel's hand was on her arm, and she had no clue why it was making her so incredibly nervous. At least forty-nine percent of her wanted to snatch her arm away jump up and suggest star jumps to run off the sexual tension.

The other fifty-one percent was already mentally licking sweat from his collarbone.

His thumb ran up and down the skin of her forearm in delicious circles that reminded her of the way…

Somehow, he was closer. Buffy didn't think Angel had moved and yet… and now her leg was looped over his hip. Casually, like it had always been there, with his crotch inches from hers.

Angel's arm drifted up the cloth of her top riding it up gently as his fingers searched for warm flesh. Somewhere past her waist he stopped and bought his hand up to her face, cradling her cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. "Is this okay?" He murmured gently. "I know it's soon."

"Soon, shmoon." A giggle rose in her chest and his sweet smile lit up her soul a little as his kiss caught her again, trapping her bottom lip between his and sucking it gently between his teeth in a way that made her clamp her thighs together in anticipation.

He smiled, releasing, her captive lip and she hissed in delight. "I missed how much you love that."

Buffy grinned back, pressing her own kiss against his lips. "You're not the only one who remembers things you know."

Wrapping her leg tighter around his hip, she pushed gently against his shoulder with her hand, directing him as he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, his hands sliding from her face, to waist, to arse. She relished in the feel of him pressing against her through their clothes. Wolfish smirks matching as Buffy bent down to fulfil her latest fantasy and lick at his collarbone. Moving her head to one side, she smoothed her tongue along the column of Angel's neck in one arch movement, other hand holding her balanced. She delighted in its grip around his firm tricep, while cradling his head and as she buried her fingers in his hair settling against him, licking and sucking on his neck as he shuddered against her, his hands roaming above her clothes 'til he let out a frustrated moan.

"Too many clothes." Angel hissed. As she pulled away, his chocolate brown eyes seemed to darken with lust: it had him pulling at the buttons on the front of her shirt impatiently. She hurried to help, pulling the whole thing over her head and chucking it on the floor hearing the muffled clink as a glass was knocked over. As she turned to see what happened, Angel grabbed at her shoulders, pulling her down for another kiss, bringing their bare chests softly together.

It felt like heaven. To be close enough to feel every inch of his skin… Angel's hands were tugging at her baggy PJ bottoms impatiently as his tongue met her lips demandingly.

Buffy pulled back, leaving her arms flat on his delectable chest, heart thumping uncontrollably. It was obviously too soon. Anyone could see that. Hell, if Willow was here, there'd be all kinds of chastising going on. But her fingers still ran down his chest, past his belly button and through the wiry hair there, leading in a wicked trail downwards till her digits hit the fly of his slacks.

They were already half undone, she reasoned, and it was short work to pop the last few buttons. "Buttons?" She echoed out loud. Angel simply shrugged. He'd thrown his hands up behind his head and was watching her with a lustful stare, eyes on her bare breasts. They were still pretty perky, even for having had a child, though she got the impression he magically couldn't see any flaws, and was instead just extremely happy to be seeing them again at all as his cock twitched against her.

Just as she was about to lift her hips and shuffle off the last of their clothing, he caught her hand. She'd been so wrapped up in the way he was staring at her she hadn't even noticed his movement - as she caught his eye, he pulled her back down to flip them back over, until he was kneeling between her legs. His head hovered over hers. "I love you, and I'm really sorry I waited so long to get on with getting you back."

Buffy nodded wordlessly. She'd kept her son from his father - not intentionally, precisely. But it was wrong and his abject apologies for not coming back for her only made her guilt worse. Buffy opened her mouth to reply but Angel shook his head a little sadly. "Don't Buffy. I know." His lips seized hers again and the sweet taste of him jolted her back from her thoughts.

He moved from her lips, kissing along her jaw and down to pause at her neck, sucking and nibbling in reciprocation of her own attention to his sensitive spot. Her hands roamed freely along the lines of his back, one hand tracing the tattoo on his shoulder out of habit as in turn one of his palms rose to gently cup her breast

She lost her breath the first time his thumb moved over her nipple in the same gentle flick he'd used on her wrist at the start. His mouth found the other breast a moment later and Buffy's sigh rapidly become a moan, Angel's talented mouth and tongue making short work of her reservations. Each flick of his tongue across her sensitive flesh made her ache a bit more, until the fire that was swirling in her belly made her writhe against him and her thighs ached with desperation

When Angel raised himself up and started peeling off her pyjama bottoms, the possibility of sex seemed - as if it hadn't so obviously been on the cards already - totally present. "Um. Angel?" He glanced up at her as he shuffled down the bed to pull the cloth over her feet. "I'm not on the pill, or anything."

"It's fine. I mean, I've got stuff. If you want to…" Angel clarified self-consciously, and she remembered how sweet he had been the first time; how careful that she would be okay.

"Yes." She replied quickly. Wishing the yawning, awkward gulf between them would disappear.

Hesitantly, he stood, dropping his pants quickly before climbing hurriedly back on to the bed. More quickly than she'd wanted, to have a good look and admire him properly after so long.

His body pressed against hers, the whole length, from toes to kissing lips. Her heart ached at the familiarity - she had missed this so much, as well as his company. Smooth fingers skimmed her bare flesh, everywhere he touched feeling so much more alive than it had twenty minutes before. His cock was resolutely hard and pressing against the soft flesh on her belly insistently.

Buffy knew what Angel wanted... Knew he wanted long and sweet and gentle. Full of kisses and promises and I Love Yous. But right now, all she wanted was him.

Inside her.

Impatiently, she pulled Angel further on top of her, sliding her legs open to draw him tighter against her. Loving the feeling of their skin touching was nothing compared to having his cock finally pressing against the tight wet heat of her. It was torturous and divine - the thought of anything but Buffy and Angel shagging like bunnies for the rest of their lives was totally incomprehensible as Angel hissed in her ear and thrust against her. "Condom," she breathed through her own moan. "Now."

Buffy had no idea where he got it from. But the little silver and blue packet flashed past her vision for a moment before she could hear the foil being ripped open and the condom rolled on.

When he leaned back against her, she could feel the slick latex pressing on her and feckless keenness flashed through her body. Wrapping herself around him, she rolled them, Angel only too happy to oblige, until Buffy was once again sitting in his lap.

Just much more naked. And wet. And very, very ready.

Silently, she puffed a breath of air out, watching Angel's captivated face as she gripped his cock with one hand and lowered slowly herself onto him.

Naked had been good, naked and touching better. But Angel inside her? If it was possible to orgasm from thoughts alone, that there as she stretched to take his length would've been it.

"Doesn't get much better than this." Buffy breathed out, and Angel nodded as he arched his back and his eyes rolled back in his head from the feel of her tightening around him.

"No." He moaned back. "Missed you."

She lifted her hips. As his cock ran past every sensitive spot, she shuddered and moaned until his fingers found her hips and pulled her back down again.

This was glorious... wonderous, and a host of other words that would trip off her tongue and onto the page of her next book if she could keep a single thought in her head beyond how good Angel felt. How happy his lust-filled eyes roaming her flesh made her, how safe his whispered 'love yous', how fucking turned on when one resourceful finger found her clit. Until she wasn't just writhing against his cock - against the filling of her with him, but against his hand and the sparks that shot from his every touch and poured through her body.

He was struggling to control himself, pulling at the sheets as he slammed his hips upwards, faster and faster, pinching at her clit with every ounce of concentration he had. Angel's desperation that she hit that point too, that she join him, catching his eye and watching him mouth 'love you' again, pushed that little spark past the 'so good it hurts' and into full-on waves of pleasure that wracked her body as she lost control herself, collapsing against Angel as her hips jerked and her inner muscles fluttered around his cock. He was groaning loudly in her ear, his chest flung up to meet her as he wrapped her tightly in a crushing hug and released inside her.

Sweat pooled between them and everything smelled of attraction and sex. Panting in symphony, they lay together for a long time, Buffy pulling him closer and closer, wrapping her arms around as much flesh as she could get at.

"I love you."

Buffy rolled away eventually, too sweaty to keep clutching her lover as though he might disappear again - now at this very moment. Lying next to each other on the bed they stayed just about touching and staring mutely at the artex ceiling as they waiting for their hearts to calm down.

"We never decided on America or Ireland."

Angel shifted onto his side, spooned around his girl and kissed her hair gently as his hand found hers. "America. If you'll have me."

"Always." She stretched, sated beside him. "But you've gotta do the dishes."

He laughed and the mattress rumbled with him. "Buffy, if you're happy to put up with me, I'll do way more than the dishes. And sex. There will be lots of sex, right?"

"Hell yes."

**The End**


End file.
